They Don’t Know Me
They don’t know me.
They don’t understand me.
They don’t know what I’m capable of.
They don’t know about all the care I put into being careless.
They don’t know how deeply I’m obsessed with efficiency and style.
They don’t know, they can’t begin to understand.
Listen, save your pop-psychology psychoanalysis of me to yourself.
Listen, all I got is my relentless grit.
Listen, I have no time for your drama.
Listen, I won’t let anything take me away from this grind.
Listen, fuck the happy family thing, it’s not for me.
Listen, you don’t know me.
You are not mentally equipped to understand this and you never will be.
You see the surface you like to see, you see but you do not observe.
You are not aware of your own shortcomings.
You will always be full of yourself.
You think one size fits all.
You don’t know me.
I am hungry.
I am lean.
I am many.
I am fierce.
I am not your friend.
I am someone you don’t know, someone you can’t begin to comprehend.
Fuck what’s considered normal.
Fuck power abusing assholes.
Fuck the bullshit they try to get away with.
Fuck needing to defend my preferred working habits.
Fuck needing to explain what I am capable of.
Fuck you, you don’t know me.
None of this is fair.
None of this matters.
None of this makes sense.
None of this is going to last.
None of this will stop me.
None of this is about me, none of you know me.
Change how you react, don’t let it throw you.
Change back to war.
Change – don’t take anything for granted.
Change how you walk and talk.
Change this, there’s no time for shit.
Change the state of play, you fuckers don’t know me.