I have adapted.
I have planned it.
Cause I have created the activities carefully around my feelings.
When I choreograph my heart toward you.

Like the spins of the Temptations I had you amazed by my ways.
When you first heard me say, I love you.

How I’d like to be a man of the people
To write poems that widely spread
To have the public sit up and notice
And nod to every little thing
That I, ever so poetically, care to share

My poems would be talk of the town
In fame and fortune I would bathe
And the public would subtly bow as I walk by
Wondering how I ever so clever
Show what the show’s all about

I would gracefully describe human nature
In a way that everyone would get
I’d share my universal wisdom
The essence of this life
And offer the promise of bliss

There would be nothing I would withhold
From the public I hold so dear
I’d help them cope with love and lust
With pain and loss and death
And all that’s bright and beautiful

But alas, I am no man of the people
And my limits are ever so clear
I myself am an isolated poet
And I fear it’s true what I hear:
That they don’t have a way with poetry, anyway

Strike a pose and disclose, a secret life
To them unknown
You awake in a robe and missing clothes
- a mark to define all evil kept inside
- a mark to define a man best kept inside
A screaming mother without a single shade of life
Just like her son left dangling on a wire

What's left to say to a petty man?
With a coward plan to strike angry clans
And what can't be said
Is best left screaming to the dead

Cuz we all know anger is just a muse
A silly disguise - a stupid ******* excuse

Cuz in the end, what's left?
Feelings left unsaid
And anger at yourself for keeping them in

So we'll take it out on the fallen troop
Who slit his wrist and downed a bottle of *****

But he couldn't die
No he didn't die
So these tears will dry
And be replaced with irate insanity

I have your card but I don't have your number
I try to recall but its hard to remember
A plan, tonic, mixed with your half slumber
Just because they pretend doesn't mean that they care

I read your words and its easy to see
That you've been a basketball after everyone from me
Passed around like you were hot gossip
But they all left once you gave what they wanted

Why was it so hard to accept what I offered?
We both did things to anger each other
And after that we realized
It was ourselves we came to despise

I'm tired of faking
Tired of playing this act
I'm sick of pretending
Pretending like I couldn't care less

Don't tell me your number
I'll only falter
In the act of moving on
Don't tell me your number
Cuz these images
Will be my roadblock.