I'm in love with a dying world.
My dream is to save a world my fathers generation set fire to.
Probably doomed to failure.
Maybe these words I write could help.
God knows they're better than the ones I speak.
Though real poetry still manages to escape me.
Unless I put it to a beat.
Maybe add a few chords to get people off they're feet.
Or maybe stretch it to a few hundred pages and really give people something to read.
You're the kind of person that makes me want to lay around listening to Hendrix and Clapton while we talk about who we want to be.
You make it hard for me to write you poetry.
I feel like the only way I could tell you what I mean is through the strings of a guitar or on the ivory keys.
Because words aren't enough to make sense of what I see.
It's like two in the morning, I have **** to do, and I don't give a single bother.
So much to do and so little time.
I feel like soon I may need to refresh my mind.
Though right now I'm getting by pretty well.
I feel like I'm getting better everyday though at what I can't tell.
Maybe I'm just getting better at being myself.
And I feel like that's all I ever really needed.
I quit smoking because I thought it was pushing the people I thought mattered away.
I quit sleeping around because I thought I found people who wouldn't judge me on how often I get laid.
So why do I still feel like I am getting pushed away.
I'm pretty sure it's all in my head.
But in away that scares me more.
I act bold to hide how afraid I am.
I act smart to hide how little I know.
I don't want to act anymore.
I don't think I fooled the people who mattered anyway.
I've discovered what this town was missing for me.
Family who loves me.
Not simply because we were born of same blood.
But because they choose me to love.
And I think I may have finally found that.
Which will make it all the harder when my tail-lights brighten the dust on this town for the last time.
Because I know without a doubt in my mind.
When I'm really gone... Then I'm gone for good.
But maybe; just maybe I've found my reason to make a visit home.
The devil's in the details.
A family, fame, and retail.
It all seems so simple till you try to grasp it.
And we watch the news laughing at the people who fail.
While terrified in knowing we're all only hanging by the tips of our nails.
Yet so much more lost we'd all be if we hadn't snatched it.
Maybe that's when life starts change we tend to go pale.
Cause its not the big picture we're scared of, because the devil's in the details