I’m angry but quiet
and you dodged the bullet years ago.
Now, roll over in your desires
and I assume I could’ve never known
the idea I portrayed of myself
and the ruins of dreams I’m expected to achieve.
There’s a letter on top of the table,
that I’m still hoping someday you’ll read.
I’m angry. I’m misunderstood,
and think about the drawings they made of me.
A figure standing tall, infinite years,
I’m set to be the living legend they always fought to be.
But I’m unready and unfaithful,
never cared about war or peace.
I’m burned alive, in the fires of a time
when everyone was quiet and I could sleep.