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Description
My name has no relationship with who I am
“Brian” summarizes who I am in two syllables
Broken, rambunctious, independent, apprehensive, no one
One in a million who actually show up and show through
Because I know how it feels to be stared at, to cry, to fear, to worry
I hold my pain in so deep until it finally finds its way through into my veins
And then to my heart, where I am buried by overzealous anger

My face has no secret meaning to how I really feel
Tired, sad, smiling, laughing, looking to the stars and looking to the ground
No one can extract the words that tell the very depths of the world inside of me
Only the obvious, the rest are just undetainable answers to forsaken riddles
Anyone can paint my face in their eyes and lecture about myself
But without my picture I’m as I really am to them, anonymous

My voice has no reason, unheard in so many truths
Because I’m not the one in control of the volume, I’m too loud for their ears
So many simple meanings turn into ever-long stories and delicate phrases shrink
They always say they hear me as a whole new outcome is repeated back to me
And when I whisper to myself “I tried” they stare and they wonder
Outspoken with amps put into place but my screams still won’t reach anyone

My heart dissolves the sporadic beats that break my mask
Because though I have a name, a face, a voice, there’s a whole different world rotating inside
When I clinch my fists. Am I’m angry? I may be thinking of why I can’t do it
When I’m closing my eyes. Am I’m sad? I may be thinking of her in my memory
And when I’m standing before you with a smile in place I’m really just holding myself together

Description
My name has no relationship with who I am
“Brian” summarizes who I am in two syllables
Broken, rambunctious, independent, apprehensive, no one
One in a million who actually show up and show through
Because I know how it feels to be stared at, to cry, to fear, to worry
I hold my pain in so deep until it finally finds its way through into my veins
And then to my heart, where I am buried by overzealous anger

My face has no secret meaning to how I really feel
Tired, sad, smiling, laughing, looking to the stars and looking to the ground
No one can extract the words that tell the very depths of the world inside of me
Only the obvious, the rest are just undetainable answers to forsaken riddles
Anyone can paint my face in their eyes and lecture about myself
But without my picture I’m as I really am to them, anonymous

My voice has no reason, unheard in so many truths
Because I’m not the one in control of the volume, I’m too loud for their ears
So many simple meanings turn into ever-long stories and delicate phrases shrink
They always say they hear me as a whole new outcome is repeated back to me
And when I whisper to myself “I tried” they stare and they wonder
Outspoken with amps put into place but my screams still won’t reach anyone

My heart dissolves the sporadic beats that break my mask
Because though I have a name, a face, a voice, there’s a whole different world rotating inside
When I clinch my fists. Am I’m angry? I may be thinking of why I can’t do it
When I’m closing my eyes. Am I’m sad? I may be thinking of her in my memory
And when I’m standing before you with a smile in place I’m really just holding myself together