The quicker you learn
No one gives a fuck about you
The better your life will be.
Sounds funny, dunnit? I know.
But I learnt recently
That the more pressure you put on those
Who don’t pick up on your frequencies
The more free you are to love them
At the capacity
They can receive and reciprocate;
It will be loving properly.
Because it’s selfish
To demand others love like you do.
They don’t owe you mimic or pantomime
Or touch that only replicates
When it’s organic it don’t matter if
It’s early when you come late.
I’m intense too –
I can so get lost in others and break
When I don’t feel my weight upheld by my mates
And I just emaciate on past dates of divine match made
When you realise no one cares,
You stop.
You pop the locks off your dusty left chest’s box
And rock the socks off your lineage of sheltered selves
You delve into the liberation of finding heaven in your hells
And as you enter the heat, my advice to thee, is to just melt.
Don’t wait till it’s too late.
If you initiate the behaviour you wish to live by
On the first try then you don’t have to imitate
Confidence on the next few:
Get on stage and sweat buckets,
Jump into the pit and kick fuckwits,
Strut down the street like you own it,
And if you got a fancy, just phone it.
If you wait till the end of the song to dance
You’ve missed your chance to let loose
Instead you prance on the wobble of the wiggling stance
And feel like everyone in the audience
Is looking at your back
Wondering ‘what is that?’
When in reality they’re looking over your head
And once their back home, in bed
You don’t get thought about once
Don’t be so worried about the things you said
In that silly moment you were worried what to do next
And spurted some shit from the pits of your head
Because it was either that or awkward silence instead
No one fucking remembers, darling
You’re the least of their worries
I know your own come in flurries, slopping about your brain
Like your belly after curry
But you should focus more on the hurry to forget
Rather than the duty to mend
Don’t lend yourself out for no one
That wouldn’t spend themselves to get you
But don’t only expect knee scraping begs, bouquets, cut wrists and poems bled
Don’t think they need to want to die for you
Because if it’s suicidal then it’s hate
Not for you, but for their own
If they think love’s shown only in extremity
And moan when it’s gentle claiming empty
Then, again, don’t concern yourself for their care
If it was there it would be evident and clear
Don’t worry if they get you
You wouldn’t even deep it if they really did
Never let them take you down from the shit to just skid
Go out there Man, make me proud
Sing loud at your gigs and let your heart vibrate with the speaker’s sound
Ground your feet in the earth before you get jumping
And never be ashamed of what gets your heart pumping
Or your throat lumping
I cry at every film, even the silly ones
And I’m a boring Cunt, I find reading fun
So I’ll say it again, incase you missed it, here’s a rerun:
Stop
Giving
A
Fuck.
By Lyric Deep.
Lyric Deep™ 