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• Artiste: Chris Orrick
• Titre: Self-portrait
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Still tryna paint you a portrait It never looks right when I force it Somehow your features get distorted Ya head's small and your eyes look enormous You know the inside of you's gorgeous But on the outside it gets morbid I got a room full of your paintings And none of 'em are gonna make me famous They'll collect dust till they're ancient Get tossed out after the late rent payments Maybe I'm not right for the era Every picture tells a story of a risk I was scared of And you can feel the self-consciousness Where every pen stroke lacks confidence Maybe I'm having trouble tryna paint you because I hate you Still tryna paint you a portrait It never looks right when I force it Somehow your features get distorted Ya head's small and your eyes look enormous You can't see the tree from the forest You can't fight the war from the fortress You can't pay the bill from the fortune You can't paint the face from the portrait So, yeah, maybe I just hate you Maybe everything you've ever said I can't relate to Hate the way you look, I hate the way you dress I hate the way your living room and kitchen is a mess I hate the way you stress, the way you overeat I hate the way you can't get out of bed and oversleep I hate the way you worry, I hate the way you smile With your big rabbit teeth you haven't brushed in a while I hate your curly hair, I hate the way you stare I hate the way that you pretend you're self-aware I hate that you hate everyone, the way you condescend I hate that you get flaky now when making plans with friends I hate the way you spend every dollar that you've earned I hate the way you know it, but you'll probably never learn I hate that it's a fact, it's probably over for this shit 'Les you get sober fuckin' quick Still tryna paint you a portrait It never looks right when I force it Somehow your features get distorted Ya head's small and your eyes look enormous You can't see the tree from the forest You can't fight the war from the fortress You can't pay the bill from the fortune You can't paint the face from the portrait I hate the way your brain makes you feel It's a shame you're convinced that the pain isn't real I hate the way you mask it with the drug Hate your body, hate your mind, all it's asking for is love I hate the way that you portray yourself I hate the way that you betray yourself I hate the way that you can't paint yourself But, most of all, I hate the way you hate yourself I hate the way you hate yourself I hate the way you hate yourself I hate the way you hate yourself