I wrote some words with lots of meaning.
I wrote them strong and proud and bold.
I threw them all down, pen to paper.
I wrote them down to be told.
But it didn't happen. It lost all meaning.
When I wrote a bit too much.
So I scrapped it, threw it out.
I don't like that. Please don't touch.
I will fix it, mend it, make it.
Better then it was before.
Then I'll say that I don't like it.
I'll close the windows and the doors.
Opportunity met it's match.
When I passed them up and down.
Here I sit with paper with me.
But I don't like that any more
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 6:45 PM UTC
I wrote some words with lots of meaning.
I wrote them strong and proud and bold.
I threw them all down, pen to paper.
I wrote them down to be told.
But it didn't happen. It lost all meaning.
When I wrote a bit too much.
So I scrapped it, threw it out.
I don't like that. Please don't touch.
I will fix it, mend it, make it.
Better then it was before.
Then I'll say that I don't like it.
I'll close the windows and the doors.
Opportunity met it's match.
When I passed them up and down.
Here I sit with paper with me.
But I don't like that any more