Oh, you are misunderstood, my brother.
When they stare at you
with those hard, judging eyes,
they don’t remember the real you.

When they stare at you
and the long scar that runs down your jaw,
they don’t remember the real you.
They remember the headlines of the motorcycling accident that caused it.

And the long scar that runs down your jaw
leads their eye to the perpetual smirk on your face.
They remember the headlines of the motorcycling accident that caused it
and gave you confidence, edge, “street cred.”

Leads their eye to the perpetual smirk on your face,
their unspoken fascination does. For they feel threatened by the accident
that gave you confidence, edge, “street cred”.
But their little real knowledge informs far less than

Their unspoken fascination does. For they feel threatened by the accident
and your horror stories of it –
the splintering crash, the blood on your face. But
I’ve always said that

Your horror stories of it
don’t show how you really felt.
I’ve always said that
there’s more to you than meets their ears.

“Don’t show what you really felt”:
This mantra dictated by desire for masculinity.
There’s more to you than meets their ears –
there was real fear in your heart that night.

The mantra dictated by desire for masculinity –
I know it secretly kills you. But
there was real fear in your heart that night,
and it makes you human.

I know it secretly kills you. But
fear is natural,
and it makes you human,
and it makes you a man.