Self Portrait

This is my self portrait

Wrapped up warm in my North Face

Gliding through storms and doorways

And rhyme 'til my jaw breaks

Sure mate a vision of me

With the television smashed and the sizzling beef

And I'm steady living, trapped in the rhythm and beat

And my head is spinning, smacked up hitting the weed

And I guess it isn't bad if it helps me adjust

But I'll tell you it's mad when it delves in my trust

And affects it, so that's a lesson mate use it

Seems that I have to be depressed to make music

Unless my face cubic, I'll break out the surface

Never played stupid, my guessing game's worthless

As I step on the wetter rain dirt

It's a lot more certain I never played her kids

One step ahead of my definite loss

Trying to fight my battle, but the weapon is blocked

Am I ever going to be the main game or a weather turner

Never gonna be my own brain or a clever learner

I'll pedal further to make heads turn

I'm hooked like a maggot or a baked dead worm

So is this hatred?

Happiness or maybe fake

Confused by my life, but I play the game

And stay the same insane in my crazy brain

And paint my name on walls just to claim the fame

It's plainly lame

I can't find my reflection, the puddle's been clouded

Blind from deception, another kid frowning

Why must I step with the rubble and the sand dunes

My mind seems fucked from the trouble and the bad news

My dad used to say to keep sane

"Keep up James and don't live the clean way"

But he's blatantly strange, faking his ways

From a crazy age I watched him pacing away

Chasing the pathways, lost with the lights out

Raving with class mates, cost of a life now

The lessons learnt by the fresher burn victims

I once beat a kid to the ground then I kicked him

Switch the sickness to friends and favours

Strong as a shield when I bend your sabers

Free from the jail, the dark and Darth Vader

Tarnish my past, live fast and laugh later

This is dark, my answer scars paper

Grasp in the last chamber, enhance my heart's neighbour

And that's my soul or my brain, or the golden maze of my swollen veins

Or my body parts drenched in the rain as the lorries pass

Motorways stains stay fake like a bobbie's mask

Got to pass out this rap in a sore state

Love to be free, but I'm trapped in my portrait