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Self​-​Portrait (prod. Nolan The Ninja)

from by Chris Orrick

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lyrics

Still trying to paint you a portrait
It never looks right when I force it
Somehow your features get distorted
Your head's small and your eyes look enormous
You know the inside of you's gorgeous
But on the outside it gets morbid
I got a room full of your paintings
And none of them are gonna make me famous
They'll collect dust till they're ancient
Get tossed out after late rent payments
Maybe I'm not right for the era
Every picture tells the story of a risk I was scared of
And you can feel the self-consciousness
Where every pen stroke lacks confidence
Maybe I'm having trouble trying to paint you
Because I hate you


Still trying to paint you a portrait
It never looks right when I force it
Somehow your features get distorted
Your head's small and your eyes look enormous
You can't see the tree from the forest
You can't fight the war from the fortress
You can't pay the bill from the fortune
You can't paint the face from the portrait

So yeah, maybe I just hate you
Maybe everything you've ever said I can't relate to
I hate the way you look, I hate the way you dress
I hate the way your living room and kitchen is a mess
I hate the way you stress, the way you overeat
I hate the way you can't get out of bed and oversleep
I hate the way you worry, I hate the way you smile
With your big rabbit teeth you haven't brushed in awhile
I hate your curly hair, I hate the way you stare
I hate the way that you pretend you're self aware
I hate that you hate everyone, the way you condescend
I hate that you get flakey now when making plans with friends
I hate the way you spend every dollar that you earn
I hate the way you know it and you'll probably never learn
I hate that it's a fact it's probably over for this shit
Unless you get sober fucking quick


Still trying to paint you a portrait
It never looks right when I force it
Somehow your features get distorted
Your head's small and your eyes look enormous
You can't see the tree from the forest
You can't fight the war from the fortress
You can't pay the bill from the fortune
You can't paint the face from the portrait

I hate the way your brain makes you feel
It's a shame you're convinced that the pain isn't real
I hate the way you mask it with a drug
Hate your body, hate your mind, all it's asking for is love
I hate the way that you portray yourself
I hate the way that you betray yourself
I hate the way that you can't paint yourself
But most of all
I hate the way you hate yourself

credits

from Portraits, released May 4, 2018

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all rights reserved

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about

Chris Orrick Detroit, Michigan

Chris Orrick is the patron saint of a poisoned world. The blue-collar MC writes spiteful chants for the permanently scarred, death letters for the forgotten, surly hymns for charcoal lungs. Think Bukowski on an eloquent bender, swapping wine for whiskey, a notepad for a glowing LED screen, the race track for the recording booth. These are anthems for the irate, over-educated and under-valued. ... more

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