Paroles de 'Self Portrait' par Dirty Dike

This is my self portrait
Wrapped up warm in my North Face
Gliding through storms and doorways
And rhyme 'til my jaw breaks
Sure mate a vision of me
With the television smashed and the sizzling beef
And I'm steady living, trapped in the rhythm and beat
And my head is spinning, smacked up hitting the weed
And I guess it isn't bad if it helps me adjust
But I'll tell you it's mad when it delves in my trust
And affects it, so that's a lesson mate use it
Seems that I have to be depressed to make music
Unless my face cubic, I'll break out the surface
Never played stupid, my guessing game's worthless
As I step on the wetter rain dirt
It's a lot more certain I never played her kids
One step ahead of my definite loss
Trying to fight my battle, but the weapon is blocked
Am I ever going to be the main game or a weather turner
Never gonna be my own brain or a clever learner
I'll pedal further to make heads turn
I'm hooked like a maggot or a baked dead worm
So is this hatred?
Happiness or maybe fake
Confused by my life, but I play the game
And stay the same insane in my crazy brain
And paint my name on walls just to claim the fame
It's plainly lame

I can't find my reflection, the puddle's been clouded
Blind from deception, another kid frowning
Why must I step with the rubble and the sand dunes
My mind seems fucked from the trouble and the bad news
My dad used to say to keep sane
"Keep up James and don't live the clean way"
But he's blatantly strange, faking his ways
From a crazy age I watched him pacing away
Chasing the pathways, lost with the lights out
Raving with class mates, cost of a life now
The lessons learnt by the fresher burn victims
I once beat a kid to the ground then I kicked him
Switch the sickness to friends and favours
Strong as a shield when I bend your sabers
Free from the jail, the dark and Darth Vader
Tarnish my past, live fast and laugh later
This is dark, my answer scars paper
Grasp in the last chamber, enhance my heart's neighbour
And that's my soul or my brain, or the golden maze of my swollen veins
Or my body parts drenched in the rain as the lorries pass
Motorways stains stay fake like a bobbie's mask
Got to pass out this rap in a sore state
Love to be free, but I'm trapped in my portrait