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Nineteen
There's a fire in my heart, but I've got blood in my mouth.
Tongue caged by by my teeth, trying hard just to speak, but your shout has got me beat and I'm rusting.
And my mother always told me, tread lightly and don't step on his toes, and that was okay at a young age, but I am fully grown.
Suit and tie at the table
Another disappointment I'll stay quiet, still unstable
And I'll swallow the poison.
Cause I am not who you were at nineteen, I am not a warrior, I am fragile, I am weak.
I'm not a warrior, I am not you I'm barely me.
Someday I hope to make it clear to you that success is not determined by leather bound books and ink on paper, but rather the passion that I have found out of heartbreak and anger.
I know that happiness is stability, but stability is not a desk job.
And I refuse to sacrifice my aspirations for an income and security.
What the hell is security?
See, I'd rather die at my fullest.
Poor, but free to roam, than let and office drain me slowly for the sake of a home.
Cause I watched your endless intermission an actor trapped in mediocrity gave up on your ambitions and your convictions compared to mine what a rigid dichotomy I am not who you were at nineteen I am not the man you want me to be I am not my father's son
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