nothing to fear - nathan r. allen lyrics
[verse 1]
first day of eighth grade, the sped teacher shakes
my hand to say, “welcome to the social place”
i said thanks, raised fist filled with grace
you know that bridges don’t get built in a day
man, it’s a long span from carrying dictionaries in pockets
choose kids spending tuesdays on a field in blonders
inst-tute communion, son of mary and crosses
and those public-schooled people are godless
but ain’t a man alive that wasn’t raised in a cult
all us babies were told to never stray from the fold
whether your windows were gl-ss stained or just a sp-ce in the wall
you only know the ill-strations you’re shown
but the raw hymns every week i’d sing
were my original diy scene
learned to print when they couldn’t read my cursive
the best nourishment is never first in the fridge
[refrain]
well i hated… limitations
i made my destination where the pain is
nothing sounds sweeter than graduation
when “sheltered” is branded in your face skin
no certain climax, it ain’t worth my time
no trust if i don’t see the dirt and grime
and if you try to rush and divide my attention
i’ll be down on the floor in a tantrum
crying, “god don’t let ‘em take me
they wanna take my conscience and sedate me”
family go on selling me their codependencies
music’s all that liberates me
too many feelings, still not enough words
won’t suffer poor diets as long as my gut hurts
what i don’t get here, i’ll find it elsewhere
get it clear (there’s nothing to fear)
[bridge]
i just remember needing ways to cope
while wrangling with the pains of growth, aging slow
fetishizing oppression, playing sole victim
naval mulling keeps the inspiration flowing
bored, falling short on the course of life
starry-eyed racing like a horse with blinders
impatiently chasing what you’re ent-tled
for survival: force hordes to worship myself
lord, am i maturing or supporting cycles?
i’m abhorring authorities for their guidance
main source of solace: adoring idols
regurgitating sermons on recorded files
talking ’bout a zig-zaggy kid always crushing on the red heads
raised in the east, so i l-sted for the west end
three churches guillotined, i wasn’t yet a freshman
contrarians chasing independence
[verse 2]
first day of work, pat the bunny undershirt
mentor -sserts “welcome to the working world”
i said sure, i’ve been here before, sir
you’ll adore me after 4 months of scorning my core worth
cool; trapped again in a safety net
paying rent, but still not out of gloriavale yet
i’m a basket case arrested by my own laziness
chained to desks where they tell me i’m greatly blessed
did i sell my soul?
is it all my fault?
and have i grown out of the
vaguest hope to make myself a home
got more words to express with
not much else i’ve progressed in
i’m depressed a lot less than
i was when in post-secondary detention
[verse 3]
shoulder’s got some chips
regardless of fault or if fault exists
i’ve been a bargain chip in parents’ politics
but my god is a father to the fatherless
effeminate oedipus, subject of psychology
defensive when anyone talks to me
constantly question the dilution of my honesty
i’m persnickety; i’m married to music and still caught between
reckless release and repression
obsessed with expressing dissension
divisions, compartments, residual bondage
still praying these songs bridge my conflicts
i might never feel as mature as my peers
i can barely prepare for where i’ll appear
in the next 20 years, but i fared the last 20
to here so (there’s nothing to fear)
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