My mind is nothing but cluttered
and thoughts can't be clearly uttered
I will try to write these lines
as good as
one at a time
'cause I want you to understand
what I can't
These are "truths"
but these are "wrongs"
I've been trying to bend
and I've known all along
they tolerate no force,
they tolerate no intervention
I'm the best at holding on
I'm the best at letting loose-
this time I don't know
which one
to choose...
...But take my hand, anyway
'cause it makes me a little less confused
I am now verging on clear and obscure;
These troubles have your name on them...
If I am sick,
I really suspect I am,
then you are my disease-
I'll do nothing,
I'll let you linger,
my prognosis will be poor
and hell yes!
You'll stay forever...
Or if not, at least until
the day I die
which
I hope
won't come too soon
I know you can't see
the road
I've been walking on
nor the signs
that
I've been ignoring
just to get a glimpse
of your world
and what's in it for me
If doing this makes you
look like a kid in a candy store,
then I'll paint all these lights green,
cross the wrong street,
get a clearer view-
a clearer picture of you,
and convince myself
that I did not *****
the Stop sign for nothing
and now we get to the bottom line:
I am a minor. A little less wine on my sangria..