i'm a troubled child
living in denial
of what i am capable of doing
and not doing
i am not insane
i know that i am great
i am challenged by a world
that's got a way of proving
whether i am right
or my life should be discreet
i can not desribe
what i am not selling...
whether i am wrong
or my seldom lies
may cheat
i can not describe what
i couldn't fathom
lick the knife and cut your tongue
i am not the only one
tell me lies and break my heart
i am still the war you won
you are still my battle 1
you're still my treasure gun
i am still a battered son
i was born a saint but the
garbage brought me in
i was so involved
in what could be revealing
wasted time with paint
painted all the walls in black
so that i could cover up all the
sh** your selling
of whether i am wrong
or my seldom lies would cheat
i could not explain
what i couldn't fathom
of whether i right
in my honesty tells me
that you can not fathom
lick the knife and cut your tongue
i am not the only one
tell me lies and break my heart
i am still the war you won
you are still my battle 1
you're still my treasure gun
i am still a battered son
