This is a hauntingly beautiful song about introspection, specifically about looking back at a relationship that started bad and ended so poorly, that the narrator wants to go back to the very beginning and tell himself to not even travel down that road. I believe that the relationship started poorly because of the lines:
"Take me back to the night we met:When the night was full of terrors: And your eyes were filled with tears: When you had not touched me yet"
So, the first night was not a great start, but the narrator pursued the relationship and eventually both overcame the rough start to fall in love with each other:
"I had all and then most of you"
Like many relationships that turn sour, it was not a quick decline, but a gradual one where the narrator and their partner fall out of love and gradually grow apart
"Some and now none of you"
Losing someone who was once everything in your world, who you could confide in, tell your secrets to, share all the most intimate parts of your life, to being strangers with that person is probably one of the most painful experiences a person can go through. So Painful, the narrator wants to go back in time and tell himself to not even pursue the relationship.
This was the perfect song for "13 Reasons Why"
Catch me in kitchen with a veggie fajita, a dollar bill is a bookmark in my Bhagavad Gita
I’m probably your number one Facebook creeper, a nerd rapper who knows the words to “Hit Me on my Beeper”
It’s a false choice like the mind-body problem, I know I’m weird but I’m good at this like Dennis Rodman
I don’t ever want to be wealthy wearing squirrel fur so those PETA people will pelt me with
Fair trade local organic onions, I hope I can never afford a servant to sand my bunions
I don’t want an invite to Larry Ellis’ functions, be the only black dude at Donald Trump’s fancy luncheons
Fuck Forbes for those philosophical quotes on every webpage announcing your favorite rap as broke
Mainstream acts got a three count on a technicality, fans won’t buy my shit in a Sims adventure type reality
A “like” on Facebook is the pineapple of hospitality
We act like we’re better than those who have less, then cry foul when the rich act arrogant
When I dressed myself this morning I put on my smarty pants to deal with bloggers who give my mixtape a smarmy glance
This is the wrong genre, I’m categorized as glam rock, these cats will eat me alive and make me drink the hemlock
I’m at my wordiest reading Gorgious, pondering on life when I’m around forty-ish
Hopefully I’ll have a great sweater collection and a pot belly, my kids are all maynars on some pops, your farts are smelly
I’m three-dimensional, my enemies are stick figures, I’m not trying to say I wouldn’t sell out for big figures, ‘cause honestly I wouldn’t know
My girl needs tuition money and I want to fund some videos, truth is...that makes me hate myself
I’m too concerned with all the nonsense they tweet about, I wonder if I see Aristotle in my visions
I’m feeling mighty philosophical, I find my peers’ conversations much too topical
I meant typical, or maybe tropical ‘cause everybody’s talking about spring break in the Galapagos
Welcome to my mind, I’ll be your sovereign host, I prepared some hors-d’oeuvres, may I take your coats?
I wish you well but I wish myself better, I wish on long distance trips I would write love letters
I guess I kind of am, on some third grader shit, colored pencil in my hand
If you like this song, check the box to the left, and if you don’t, check no box and hit next
Our daydreams of meditating on rooftops and awkward tube socks, I’m a polyglot with rising stock and garden plots
I started rapping and asked what’s the grand prize? Was damned to find it was some name brand french fries
I’m just as awkward around these liberal nannies who in their cultured knowledge offer me vegan chicken patties
Welcome to my mind, I’ll be your sovereign host, I prepared some hors d’oeuvres, may I take your coats?
I’m getting deeper than Jacques Cousteau, I’m on a sinking u-boat struggling to hold my nose and
scrambling to waterproof my prose, I’m no Aquaman or lonely submariner
I’m penning rhymes in Times New Romanian, I’m just a rhymer destined to stay subterranean
Here goes hip-hop’s Copernican revolution, I remain unthreatened by tourniquets and hooligans
I couldn’t crack the code, I’m no mentalist, I’m into ethics but not as a consequentialist
I feel like I’m in tune with the souls of old folks, more concerned with modern morality than tire spokes
The depressive flow, I don’t know why they hate us, I quit eating meat, it seemed weird as an animagus
I’m probably your number one Facebook creeper, a nerd rapper who knows the words to “Hit Me on my Beeper”
It’s a false choice like the mind-body problem, I know I’m weird but I’m good at this like Dennis Rodman
I don’t ever want to be wealthy wearing squirrel fur so those PETA people will pelt me with
Fair trade local organic onions, I hope I can never afford a servant to sand my bunions
I don’t want an invite to Larry Ellis’ functions, be the only black dude at Donald Trump’s fancy luncheons
Fuck Forbes for those philosophical quotes on every webpage announcing your favorite rap as broke
Mainstream acts got a three count on a technicality, fans won’t buy my shit in a Sims adventure type reality
A “like” on Facebook is the pineapple of hospitality
We act like we’re better than those who have less, then cry foul when the rich act arrogant
When I dressed myself this morning I put on my smarty pants to deal with bloggers who give my mixtape a smarmy glance
This is the wrong genre, I’m categorized as glam rock, these cats will eat me alive and make me drink the hemlock
I’m at my wordiest reading Gorgious, pondering on life when I’m around forty-ish
Hopefully I’ll have a great sweater collection and a pot belly, my kids are all maynars on some pops, your farts are smelly
I’m three-dimensional, my enemies are stick figures, I’m not trying to say I wouldn’t sell out for big figures, ‘cause honestly I wouldn’t know
My girl needs tuition money and I want to fund some videos, truth is...that makes me hate myself
I’m too concerned with all the nonsense they tweet about, I wonder if I see Aristotle in my visions
I’m feeling mighty philosophical, I find my peers’ conversations much too topical
I meant typical, or maybe tropical ‘cause everybody’s talking about spring break in the Galapagos
Welcome to my mind, I’ll be your sovereign host, I prepared some hors-d’oeuvres, may I take your coats?
I wish you well but I wish myself better, I wish on long distance trips I would write love letters
I guess I kind of am, on some third grader shit, colored pencil in my hand
If you like this song, check the box to the left, and if you don’t, check no box and hit next
Our daydreams of meditating on rooftops and awkward tube socks, I’m a polyglot with rising stock and garden plots
I started rapping and asked what’s the grand prize? Was damned to find it was some name brand french fries
I’m just as awkward around these liberal nannies who in their cultured knowledge offer me vegan chicken patties
Welcome to my mind, I’ll be your sovereign host, I prepared some hors d’oeuvres, may I take your coats?
I’m getting deeper than Jacques Cousteau, I’m on a sinking u-boat struggling to hold my nose and
scrambling to waterproof my prose, I’m no Aquaman or lonely submariner
I’m penning rhymes in Times New Romanian, I’m just a rhymer destined to stay subterranean
Here goes hip-hop’s Copernican revolution, I remain unthreatened by tourniquets and hooligans
I couldn’t crack the code, I’m no mentalist, I’m into ethics but not as a consequentialist
I feel like I’m in tune with the souls of old folks, more concerned with modern morality than tire spokes
The depressive flow, I don’t know why they hate us, I quit eating meat, it seemed weird as an animagus
Lyrics submitted by themachine, edited by Tumbleezy, diviine
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