you see me as carnation pink
like the flowers you left on my porch
i'm feeling more of a seething red
like the innermost flame of a torch
i don't want to crack in front of you
but how many angsty songs can i play
you call me a saint, that's a tall task
it's hard because what am i to say?
i've been programmed to believe
that any ounce
any drop
of emotion
is too much
and i am crazy and in the wrong
but i consider myself
to be seasoned in reason
deluged in logic
i will let out a sigh
and turn the music up louder
at least you're not here to see me suffer
but then again
that's part of the problem
isn't it?