The man has pseudo-friends who constantly criticize his actions. They moralize him, "teach" him and advise him to make a significant change in his life, because the way he is and what he does is not what they say it should be. They may find his life lame or immoral. They hold themselves up as role models. The man replies that he will make his own choices and decisions and he does not agree to unconditionally make himself under the influence of questionable quality advice. He justifies this by saying that there is always someone for whom he will be important, no matter what he does and no matter what he is. Although it is not said directly, I read it as meaning that he will always be important to himself in every way and he will always have his own support.
"Everyone is different and maybe that's a good thing, but you exceeded that mark 1000 times" - I remember very well how sad the words I once heard (from my peers and it was in negative context) at school made me feel.
Poetry and Fantasies
I made you a valentine out of pastels.
It was goofy looking and corny as hell.
So I gave it to you when we went out.
And you hung it on your wall.
We shared a laugh and you smiled.
After all this time is still hangs around.
Theres a box in the back of your closet.
Where you keep all of our memories.
Momentos of the times we shared.
On your shelf , dried out flowers
From the times we went dancing around.
And the letter you kept on your dresser.
My true feelings written on paper.
Posters and flyers on your wall.
The concert where I held you in my arms.
Next to your bed lies a journal.
The place where you poured your heart out.
Somethings that were blind to me and still now.
Poetry and Fantasies.
Teardrops dried over faded ink.
I made you a valentine out of pastels.
It was goofy looking and corny as hell.
So I gave it to you when we went out.
And you hung it on your wall.
We shared a laugh and you smiled.
After all this time is still hangs around.
Theres a box in the back of your closet.
Where you keep all of our memories.
Momentos of the times we shared.
On your shelf , dried out flowers
From the times we went dancing around.
And the letter you kept on your dresser.
My true feelings written on paper.
Posters and flyers on your wall.
The concert where I held you in my arms.
Next to your bed lies a journal.
The place where you poured your heart out.
Somethings that were blind to me and still now.
Poetry and Fantasies.
Teardrops dried over faded ink.
Lyrics submitted by OneHourPhoto
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