lessons
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jule
jule we're all trying, trying, trying.
Autoplay OFF   •   5 months ago
For all of your preaching, you never did live up to your own teachings.

lessons

Isn't it ironic

Isn't it ironic How when I was younger,

Isn't it ironic How when I was younger, You'd tell me to hold my chin higher,

Isn't it ironic How when I was younger, You'd tell me to hold my chin higher, Smile a little brighter,

Isn't it ironic How when I was younger, You'd tell me to hold my chin higher, Smile a little brighter, Express myself a tad bit clearer,

Isn't it ironic How when I was younger, You'd tell me to hold my chin higher, Smile a little brighter, Express myself a tad bit clearer, And to love myself much louder?

You questioned the faults of my upbringing,

You questioned the faults of my upbringing, Confused about the differences between our complexions,

You questioned the faults of my upbringing, Confused about the differences between our complexions, For it is your blood that flows through my veins;

You, who are so loud, strong and bold,

You, who are so loud, strong and bold, And me, who is so quiet, tender and timid,

You, who are so loud, strong and bold, And me, who is so quiet, tender and timid, Like a magnet, integrated together yet polar opposites of each end;

You, who are so loud, strong and bold, And me, who is so quiet, tender and timid, Like a magnet, integrated together yet polar opposites of each end; Two adverse edges that share the same body,

You, who are so loud, strong and bold, And me, who is so quiet, tender and timid, Like a magnet, integrated together yet polar opposites of each end; Two adverse edges that share the same body, Albeit with minds that conflict in mentality.

Perhaps it is because you've forgotten

Perhaps it is because you've forgotten How I grew up learning to be wary,

Perhaps it is because you've forgotten How I grew up learning to be wary, Where I lowered my head at your unjust fury,

Perhaps it is because you've forgotten How I grew up learning to be wary, Where I lowered my head at your unjust fury, Cry with bitterness after each controversy,

Perhaps it is because you've forgotten How I grew up learning to be wary, Where I lowered my head at your unjust fury, Cry with bitterness after each controversy, And shrink smaller at the blow of each colloquy,

If anything, I learnt that silence was the key

If anything, I learnt that silence was the key To gaining the love that you never did convey.

Now, at the age of twenty,

Now, at the age of twenty, Even if I have yet to perfect the art of society,

Now, at the age of twenty, Even if I have yet to perfect the art of society, Some people call me a saint, others a calamity,

Now, at the age of twenty, Even if I have yet to perfect the art of society, Some people call me a saint, others a calamity, Obedience has somehow become my striking identity,

Now, at the age of twenty, Even if I have yet to perfect the art of society, Some people call me a saint, others a calamity, Obedience has somehow become my striking identity, The constant practice of forgetting my individuality,

Now, at the age of twenty, Even if I have yet to perfect the art of society, Some people call me a saint, others a calamity, Obedience has somehow become my striking identity, The constant practice of forgetting my individuality, Makes me favored by all for they are constantly my top priority.

In a way, I guess it is quite ironic,

In a way, I guess it is quite ironic, For all your teachings I still reminisce,

In a way, I guess it is quite ironic, For all your teachings I still reminisce, And therefore, dear love, I must catechize,

In a way, I guess it is quite ironic, For all your teachings I still reminisce, And therefore, dear love, I must catechize, For all the virtues that you constantly emphasized,

In a way, I guess it is quite ironic, For all your teachings I still reminisce, And therefore, dear love, I must catechize, For all the virtues that you constantly emphasized, In your life, was my happiness ever recognized?

- (when will it stop being for them, and when will it ever be about me?)

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