Buddha Complex - Gone and Why
wheni'mgone,don'tevenmissme
Do you like peanut butter?!
YES?!
Then you'll truly love Buddha Complex's delicious grooves!
APF doesn't exist anymore. It's just Buddha Complex and maybe some other heads if they got they act write.
Story behind the song
Emotional baggage and trips down memory lane
Lyrics
Verse 1/
Skewed illusions, I stand in front of mirror
and have verbal intercourse with thoughts and come to conclusions
But basically, I guess I fucked my self (ovaaah)
Spend days takin angels out and rubbin hell
I have issues, so when I'm usin the bathroom
I have readin and something to use when out of tissue
If I have to/ I stitch the rent on the ligaments
and join these little kids with the matching tattoos
I figure the billowin smoke and silhouette of hope
is enough to disfigure, sever the umbilical chord
chaining me to conception, relegatin me
to vacancy's available in death bed
but I circumvent that by hidin under it, utterin
things that make monsters sharin space shudderin
The matress is shared by the sons and daughters
as I hear the bedpost carved up with notches
hook/
When I'm gone, don't even miss me
x3
Y'all prolly won't miss me anyway
When I'm gone, don't even miss me
x3
I'm gone anyway
Verse 2/
I've had conversations with the lash marks wrapped
around my arms everytime I did something wrong
Interviewed the moments when emotions exploded
and my moms beat me to the soundtrack of the TV
I didn't excorsise my demons and would get lost in
runnin away steada workin out the problems
So I coddle this little victim and even smoke
cigarettes with him insteada injectin sedatives
He tells me stories about how he feels worthless
His worlds a stage fright nervous mess waitin for the curtains
And whenever I have company over, he scuttles over
to hug the corner (of your eyes), thank god yall don't notice
The beatdowns remain vivid in his mind
When you accept his pounds, you can hear it in the lines
on his palm, because often they were used
to channel the tears and irrigate the abuse
Verse 3/
I throw stones with notes attached thru windows of opportunity
grievance letter written with humanity's eulogy
Mutiny as the ship hit's the tip of the iceberg
With the twist of fate's crown of thorns at my sideburns
I'm goin from a student who write for love
to a starvin artist who refuse to bite the dust
I tried to love, but the paranoia boycotts the thoughts
I must buy into to trust you
My childhood is a pile of broken crayons
and bent hangers and torn up comic books
The younger me sleeps underneathe the deathbed
I'll put him in the closet once he's a skeleton
Yes yes yall, and ya don't stop
Lookin for his body before it rots
Yes yes yall, and ya don't quit
I want to mingle with the search partyers/ hook
uhm, I'm sorry for feeling sorry for my self
