Russ a Buss & Danny J - They'll Forget Me

This is gonna be hard Russ
What time is it
Oh, way way too late
All the best artists come out at night

An artist, can go the farthest, when the scars go deeper than the surface
The heart gets, hit the hardest, when the heat from the pen is a furnace

Late at night, the artist writes the type of words you type
When you hurt on the inside
Rarely grin. Tend to grimace in the dim light
Self reflection got him questioning his insight
7 out of 10 times, confidence in pen strikes
Got him contemplating if he maybe picked his friends right
Ain't got many, he doesn't give em any time
Writing's more important to an introverted mind
Vice grip on the vices, get excited
No outburst can rewind to the silence
Every time he's high, abstract with the writing
Doesn't take advice, to put the pipe back in hiding
9-5 he's socializing only to politely
Nurse a facade that determines the likely-hood
Of blending in, instead of being nervous
He's got a good defense, but it's not always working

An artist, can go the farthest, when the scars go deeper than the surface
The heart gets, hit the hardest, when the heat from the pen is a furnace

Can't challenge the best of luck with your friends, in a medial, mediocre attempt at amends
But I guess it just depends, whether or not the music ends, leaving it up to lunatics, sitting in suspense
I'm a walking target coming out of my shell. Is life pretend, or am I under a spell? Feeling like I gotta stop
And center myself. Lost my way, hit reset on my mental health, yo
I don't condone leaving home with the speakers on
I'm just trying to pick the locks from the speaker box to headphones
Get inside your dome and leave a message, hopefully you'll notice when the music ends the sentence
Unlike my father, I don't wanna struggle, too much bother. Still died double buckled
So, see, that's the trouble, they put him in a muzzle. Died with no rebuttal, face down, in a fucking puddle

As an artist I suffer. I sit in line, take a number
In this world of uncomfortable children, just one in a billion getting dumber
In pristine conditioning, I'm thinking that she's missing me, my girl meant the world
Was her name Whisky or Whitney? Either way, they'll forget me

An artist, can go the farthest, when the scars go deeper than the surface
The heart gets, hit the hardest, when the heat from the pen is a furnace

Konichi Sanabana

Written by:
Danny Jensen, Russell Gardner

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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