Some people search in trash bins for cans.
They collect them to get paid.
Some people collect cans to get paid.

Some people go back to the place they like or really enjoy.
They go where they hope and dream.
Some people go back to that place where they hope and dream.

sometimes you're like homework
so confusing
and i just stare at you
absent-mindedly
hating you
yet you're important to me
it's so hard to finish you
and i lose inspiration every now and then
but when i get high as my grades
i come running back to you

i can't wait to graduate from school
get rid of this infatuation
we would be adults by then
and hopefully this mess will be sorted out

Why is this world here?
That I don't know.
Why did God make leaves green?
Or wood creak
When you step on that one board?
Why do we get that special feeling
when sitting infront of the fireplace during the winter?
Why does it bring a smile to our face,
when we see a little girl
run ino her daddie's arms?
Why are we at a loss for words
when trying to describe love?
This I don't know.
Why does it feel peaceful
when we are alone?
Why do we hurt
when a loved one passes?
Why do we grin
when we recieve a gift?
Why do we clench our fists
when we become frustrated?
This I don't know. Maybe some things aren't meant to be known. Maybe when you find out why joyful things are joyful, you loose the joy in them. And that is why we don't know. Why is this? That only God knows.