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l'orange - the mad writer lyrics

a writer sits in front of his old typewriter
four corner room in solitude is where you might find him
or maybe not, in that secluded spot
his hands get hot as the ink drops
staring at the page, he don’t blink a lot
taking slow sips and chugging from a gold goblet
life events made him cold-hearted, so he wrote about it
dark lines sit deep under his eyelids
depressed, plus in need of rest;
that’s just to redirect his hatred
so many times he ain’t say sh-t, seemed patient
but he locked them feelings in the bas-m-nt
and now he writes fiction mixing moments from his past
and his fans don’t understand how real they are, he had to laugh
somebody had asked him where his inspiration was from
about a boy very young sodomized with a gun
a tear fell from his left eye and then he tried to lie
and said that in his idle time he dreamed a storyline
going on 45
fury since his shorty, “worry” never dies
it will subside; reason he never kept his head up high
seldom smiled since a pedophile that pinned him down
now he sit around pondering on how he’d get ’em now
when you’re down, drowning in the “why”, “how”, and the “when”
it’s like a reenactment that’s happening over again
them dark clouds is over him while he was holding that pen
a good thing he started writing rather then holding it in
at this point he got 5 books published, a lot of luggage
seemingly doing well, cause that h-ll, he rise above it
he kept the truth from the public with a default smile
camouflaging cause that’s the sh-t that he’s on now
a better life to live: the house dog, the wife, and the kids
fooling everyone but himself, walking right off the edge
ain’t n0body knows what he went through
his mate thought she could relate, he said, “not even you”
with a straight face she can’t understand him, so then she exits
clears the joint account and then bounce like he expected
another one that wasn’t built to last
he going mad sitting up in his pad
lit with the crooked laugh
as hes typing up the next best seller
’bout a writer end up k!lling himself when his ex left him
his fans read about it on the following day
“the mad writer” was the t-tle, story on front page
it said…..

- lorange lyrics

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