Red Hunting Cap

[Verse 1]
This is the one thing that makes me feel redeemed
Coupon status, mad at us? Ignoring the chatter seems
To be the only strategy when one hand writes poetry
And the other writes only in the dreamiest of realities
Semis 3 times but never an automatic
Gawky kid spastic, wordplay fanatic, almost fantastic
For your information. Break me out of plastic
Enemy to Majora because I'm trying not to mask it
Never following the stereotypes. I'm surrounding the sound
My heart pound is the bass now and it's getting loud
I'm tallying up my hours. Not even close to the limit
So I'm going to live it until my painting becomes vivid
Parents so livid that my life is dedicated to the arts
But it's hard to stop when you start and every single part
That you would cut into me would bleed lyrics and paint
But just like cutting my wrists, this will all make you faint

[Verse 2]
I've always felt mediocre compared to my peers
And the only time I gave an F is when at the final I failed to appear
So this is me starting it up, key in the ignition
Writer's block in remission, Trusting only the intuition
Tired of the lectures. Tired of the yelling
Tired of being a disappointment but there is no telling
How my future will turn out. I'm trying to craft it barehanded
An ambidextrous ambition is the only thing demanded
I will not be reprimanded for choosing happiness over the latter
I will never break nor shatter. This is mind over matter
This is heart and the soul. This is attitude and mentality
This is the gallery of my entire being without puff or flattery
My fingerprints are left in the dust of words long forgotten
Craggy fingertips gripping memories almost rotten
To try and transform my personal poison into antidote
Treated as empirical since this is the prince's anecdotes

[Verse 3]
Supported like girders in between my fragile flesh
The hardware is there. The gridiron and the tenderness mesh
You cannot match the freshness stored inside his chest
I've been studying myself for years, so go ahead and test.
The recipe for this is 2 parts wisdom, 3 parts fool
9 pints of liquid courage and let the bravado just cool
A dash of naivety but added in by shaky hands
Heavy with idealism and optimism. Far from bland
It's alright if he is burned. It leaves merely a char
Regardless, you will be tasting the stars
With feet that stand with the tenacity of The Tank Man
The parking lot of his head will never be vacant
Hands overactive with turning pages and scribbling
And scars left from 2 parents and 3 older siblings
You are about to partake in viewing behind the curtain
Despite the name calling he is a person, for certain.