I've thought of records and audio files,
Where my voice trails on awkwardly enough,
For me to flinch hard as I listen to
All the silly problems that I wish to
Address in my teenage years, because soon
I'll forget myself, I'll forget my youth
And frankly? I ain't ready for those sad,
Sad twenties and the lonely apartments -
If only I had that audio file -
I'd pour my feelings out, let them go like
Water from a beat down dam heading for
The ocean, that water calls me now and
Its soft hum brings me down to Earth, but my
Stupid feelings are still screaming they're still
Deeply buried in the sand and the ground
It shakes with each unspoken thought I've yet
To let out, but if someone doesn't bring
A shovel, I might as well keep shaking
'Til I stop hating the sound of my own **** voice.