I was a copy of a copy of a copy, Gray mornings, catalog lives, The things you own end up owning you, A perfect cage, designed to keep me blind. Numbers on a screen, I was sleepwalking through the daylight, Insomnia carving holes inside my brain. Consumer, product, slave of routine, Nothing mattered— Until he came. Inside my head, A storm I can’t contain, He whispers, he laughs, And nothing feels the same. He showed me freedom with broken fists, Soap and scars, gasoline dreams, Project Mayhem rising from the ashes, Pain was real, And real was holy. We were the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world— And it felt alive. Inside my head, He’s louder than the night, I see his face, And it looks like mine. I pulled the trigger against myself, A bullet to silence the double. He fell, I remained. My blood tasted like truth. I killed him— But he was me. Marla walks through the smoke, Eyes full of questions, Hands trembling in mine. The city trembles, glass collapsing, And I tell her softly, “Everything’s gonna be fine.” Inside my head, The storm becomes the sky, No Tyler, no master, Just fire in my eyes. (Marla, Marla, hold on tight…) You met me At a very strange time in my life.
