Bloody Poetry

I think it's his relationship with poetry. He is a poet, just listen to any of his music and anyone can tell. He is a very talented poet, too. But this is how he feels about his poetry. "Make it beautiful and make it look like love Make it hang from the heavens Make it break my trust Make it real, make it dangerous Make it out of the rust and make it passionate and impossible to touch." The way he can twist words can be beautiful, it can be love. It can break his trust because he puts himself into his words, it can come from nothing (rust) it can be passionate and it is impossible to touch (considering words can touch us more than we can touch them) You can't touch poetry. Literally, it's impossible.

And just looking at the chorus (which is incomplete) can explain "You're all I've ever known, sewn to my sleeve, You've always got me runnin home Hand full of roses You're my blood and brittle bones, my soul and open throne You're all I've known" (Which is the correct lyrics. I'm the nerd that reads the lyric books.) But he expresses himself through his poetry, the way any artist expresses themselves through their art. It's all he's known, and his poetry is quite literaly his blood and brittle bones, and his soul, and his open throne because it makes him king-like (atleast I consider him one.) He's most likely a boy that wears (or wore) his heart on his sleeve (from other songs) and his heart is his poetry and it's easy to tell the kind of person he his through his lyrics because he puts himself into them.

"I guess it started when the lights went out, And everybody started running around in circcles trying to figure out, I could feel it, wedged in y ribs, it felt freezing, as my cold air blew out, and danced through the evening, Paranormal, slowly being called to the gleam." He discovered his talent (poetry) when everything fell to shit (when the lights went out and everybody starting running around in circles.) He was able to discover himself through his poetry. However, through his poetry he puts himself into it, making it easier to desipher who he is and, thus, easier to hurt him. Just like slug says in one of his songs that he can never be friends with a fan because they know far too much about him. It's bloody because he's putting his heart into it, his soul.

That is what I've gotten from it.

A street artist trying to figure himself out in a new world.

 I guess it started when the lights went out
 And everybody started running round in circles tryin' to figure it out

Process of moving out into a new place.

 Slowly being called to the green
 Where the ghosts gather nightly and sell the devil their dreams, observe
 Hails from the other side of the curb

Trying to avoid the drug/gang life.

 Hold the concrete notepad
 Scribble down my words in the limelight

Graffiti under a lamppost.

 This is what it's like to bleed ink
 Put yo fingers in it paint me a picture of what you think

His way of expressing his sadness. He wants you to see his art and feel something, too.

 It's forever, slowly resurrected from the dust
 When you understand it's everything inside of you, it's us.

Emotions come from your past and from within.

 You're all I've ever known
 Just come to my sleep, you always got me running home
 Handful of roses

Memories and dreaming of the old life.

 I've spoke a whisper in the dark one night
 Watch it take form in front of me and mimic my life
 It seemed natural especially watching it's last breathe like poetry
 Watch as it clung to it's own chest with a smile
 Made out of broken pieces of tile
 You can see the thoughts running, chase em around for miles

He starts rapping and realizes how easy it comes to him.

 If you want it, people say that old road is haunted
 If you travel on it long enough you'll never get off it
 You believe it cause everything is skewed when you see it
 Then you process automatically, think that you feel it
 And automatically sticks to the brain when the truth of it
 Is standing outside, playing cards in the rain
 You will never beat the game it plays
 You can only turn around and lick the blood from your own switchblade

Many people are afraid to leave the comforts of their past and end up getting stuck. They never move forward. The only way to escape is to rip yourself from those comforts and move forward.

just wondering why the chorus is incomplete?

you're all i've ever known come into my sleep, you always got me runnin home handful of roses on my blood and brittle bones my soul's an open tome you're all i've known

I think it is about the collaborative and cultural nature of art. And, for those of us who are addicted to it, how it is such an involuntary and core part of us. There are also references to the damage an addiction to your art can cause you.

[Edit: addition]