I was young, and I was Different
Even though I was odd, I was also still innocent
The agony, the deceit right in front of my eyes
Yet I was too blind, maybe even paralyzed
Paralyzed to the hurt to what I thought was all true
It was just an illusion, but I lived it through and through
Through all the confusion, through the knives in my back
I was 11 years old, why did I go through that?
I love my mom, she loved me too.
Was she scared I was gay? The word faggot’s so crude,
Yes in general, but in other aspects as well.
Like saying it to your son when he can barely inhale.
An abomination, a sin, I say oh the fuck well. Just cause I love who I love I am going to hell.
Well, mommy I love you with all of my heart. But I need you to know my love is my art.
I was young, I was different and only I saw my talent
because you were too worried ‘bout me being a faggot
I got a lot from you mom, my eyes even my diva tendencies.
But I know that you knew that those things were not fair to me.
how did I get through that? Well, the obvious way
it’s been through my art, been there from the beginning.
Creation wasn’t something I learned or needed to do,
it just came and I enjoyed knowing I had a unique point of view.
My art is my heart, I won’t let it go, and so is my sexuality watch my true colors show.
I’m young, I’m different. The way I will stay
But I’m also funny, smart and witty… growing up in MY own way.
MY light it shines, brighter than the rays of the sun.
No one knows how proud I am of the person Albert’s become.