Left Unsaid from Self-Medication by Soloman Crowe

I wear this armor made of paper
I load my guns with graphite led.
I've been at war with this eraser
Filling the graveyards with words better left unsaid.
Most pages of this stories missing
There's not enough here to comprehend.
And the dead don't speak but they sure do listen
With words left unspoken, they speak of how this story will end.

I think there's been a system failure
There is a virus in my code.
And I must be some kind of freak of nature.
I don't belong here, extra-terrestrial soul.

I wanna go home
Im letting go, So let me go, Just let me go, I wanna go home.
Theres something wrong with me, I feel something broken inside
There's something wrong with me, I feel something missing inside.
I dont know why I am this way.

I wear this armor made of paper
I bleed black ink and graphite led.
I've learned to love this damn eraser.
Here in this graveyard with words better left unsaid.
All these things I wish I would have said.

• Americana
• Punk
• Rock
• Southern Gothic
• folk punk
• singer-songwriter
• St. Louis