Dante Cope - Little Timmy lyrics

[Little Timmy] Little Timmy was only 5 foot 10, a hundred and forty pounds of pa**ion, and known for laughin'- like 10 minutes a day, but that's a joke for every inch. So don't get carried away with the math. The arithmetic is sick but so is he. He hides scars so deep you can't see the lifetime of emotion behind trees. Two thousand, two hundred and fifty grams crammed behind skin. Sparked by his pen, He's high as mountain crests. Ever-rest. Never rest will he. His dreams are so dark that he sparks just to see anything but reality. And there is a Channel 4 fatality in his future, if he fails to suture all those wounds that left him in his room, debating if life was even worth it. So when loading a bullet into a gun of your past, do you spin it? Do you win it, if you end it before your soul collapses? This revolver is a revolving door. No drama but your mother, man, she can't afford another casket. The last pic of her child in her mind was a youth so divine his mind was blown from new clothes. Now his mind is blown from a snub nose... Who woulda' known... Who woulda' known that the world woulda' missed his a**. And that mentally he was more fragile than gla**. He was Bruce Willis fisted, gifted with a right of Mohamed but he could Ali over heads with words. He Tony Hawked linguistics. That is, 900 degrees of touching people, but it is a sickness that did this crime to a beautiful mind. Mind blown open, gun smoking, walls painted red, but no joking... The brain matter glittered like third grade pictures, or young girls' faces who knew him before he faced this- this time in his life, where drama outweighed his mother saying, "It's all going to be all right.” And there are no more friends staying up all night, as he chased them all away along with his love life. Pain, strife, That is what did him in. And it is a shame that in this world you either sink or swim. And he knew more about sneakers than he did his kin. Knew more about playing hard than he did being a friend to anyone who ever loved him. So in the end, being hard is what will make you sink, make you think, Or make you blink at life. Instead of keeping eyes peeled that day, he blinked, and missed the love of his life walking away... So When loading a bullet into a gun of your past, do you spin it? Do you win it, if you end it before your soul collapses? This revolver is a revolving door. No drama but your mother, man, she can't afford another casket. The last pic of her child in her mind, was a youth so divine his mind was blown from new clothes, Now his mind is blown from a snub nose... Who woulda' known... Who woulda' known that the day of the funeral would come so soon. It was the coldest day of winter, held outside at noon. No room, just nature on his mother's knees, and snot frozen on the noses of his brothers. See, every girl that ever loved him, they came to see if the untamed man had met his own defeat. But da-feet of his family were frozen, while my eyes were glued wide open. Watching people cry icicles and scream avalanche-causing echoes this I will never let go. But I do know that it was all a dream. And that guy inside the casket, well, that was me. I was 23 and playing Russian roulette with life- the gun, is the thoughts that creep up at night. The bullets, are the thoughts of "Is it worth it?” As my thoughts, like me, seem so worthless until the pen hits the pad like the barrel of the gun hits the temple. But damn, until I meet my own demise, I – I'm just trying to open eyes. MM3