of course he's a leader
people follow him
whether he does it well enough
depends on where you are

it could be behind him
it could be in front of him
it could be the other side of the planet
who knows

there are people that teach
and there are people that do
the quality of a leader depends entirely on you

time is a thing and it's useful
instead it becomes an excuse
a tree as a thing can be fruitful
everything down to the root
scars are a thing and they whisper
secrets from under the whisp
i always try to be truthful
but it gets in the way of my youth

some scars are severe
some indelibly permanent
some can be dangerously near

but what happened that year
has been pretty persistent
and yes, i wish you were here

yes, i wish i had nothing to do with it, and i wish i'd never have met you, but that's not true, i followed it through and i'm all for the better, umbrella, the shade from the sun that you shone that left sunburns that scream and cry and shame me for hating and scraping and flaking and breaking and making and hurting and trying to buy my way out of this...

but i can't, because otherwise it wouldn't be a scar, right?

it used to be a state of mind
but mind the step, excuse the time
it doesn't matter what you find
the passion for the crime

but in the end when it's inept
that depth is where you'll need the time
it doesn't matter why you kept
the rhythm for the rhyme

but what if you were not prepared
and spared the consequence this time
it doesn't matter why you shared
the gristle for the grime

it used to be a state of mind
you'll find it in another time
it doesn't matter if you're that kind
of person, i guess, because
beyond the choke
way past the joke
those choices disappear
as if they were never even here

it doesn't matter what you'll find
this loneliness is so unkind
it used to be a state of mind
and now it's gone

the reason why i write these silly little poems
is not because you'll read them
oh god no
it's because if you did
at least i'd have something to say

we see a million things around us
all the time
and sometimes
none of it makes sense

we see a million things around us
second time
but this time
none of it makes sense

fool me once, fool me twice
another time
and every single time
none of it made any sense at all

except that one time
when it did make sense
enough to want to pay attention to it
and there wasn't enough time

if i was set adrift in a sea of doubt
there'd be no doubt
if i could see

if i were to imagine the drought
there'd be no drought
or famine

but i can't
because i'm .............
wood for the trees
salt for the seas
sympathy for the devil, all that

does me being less me
mean you being more you
or does me being more me
mean you being less you
an arrogant economy
that tries hard to forget you
and it's hard, god it's so hard
to find that delicate ******* balance

between what's right and what's wrong
and where you know you belong
because earth is the place where everyone lives
and everyone learns how to forgive

be it the choices you made
way back in fifth grade
or the people you listen to
while they're hurling resent at you

it's never too late
so why wait

suddenly it seems, the seas
remind me of the trees
but then the freeze
that makes me sneeze
another lock against the door

somewhere in my dreams, it seems
behind my selfish screams
that all the greed
behind my need
is always coming back for more

if i am lost then you're alone
you know you're never on your own
as useless as a megaphone
implicitly complicit
like a good idea
on crack