Raw

The clouds turned into spiny chestnut shells
And when they'd rain down my skin would swell
And the morning song birds were replaced with crow
And the spiny shelled rain would stick to me like Velcro

The beat up tin I'd like to call my car
Would deliver me and all to only a lonely bar
And I would ponder this disease like a peeling onion skin striptease
And I would live to let it win
When I was raw
(When I was wrong.)

Being way too tall for any self regulation
I'd invite the devil in and his entire nation
What in tarnation?
Being way too small to let any angel love me
I would spit on the ground they shadowed
And in the air they flew above me
When I was raw
(when I was wrong.)
When I was raw

It took a year or two
To scavenge what was left
Now I walk with much more rhythm
Over the mines I might've dug and left
I was so tainted when I set them
Being blinded from rage
Now I glide until I stumble
But now they fail to engage
Mmmmmmmmm