The shower floor is my temple,
A sanctuary for thought,
After an icy cold shower,
I turn the handle to scalding hot.
I let the steam melt my mascara,
Black lines trickle down my face,
But which side will reach my chin first?
Every day it's a race.
As I sit there, weeping,
On the grimy shower floor,
I ask myself what I'm doing with my life,
And wonder if theres someone I want more.
I think of you at first,
But then I think of them,
I wonder what she'll think;
Though I know she'd rather me chose him.
What other people think
Or do, shouldn't concern me,
It's just so **** hard for me to figure out
Who it is I will chose to please.
I know, I know,
You've been here all along,
But maybe it wasn't you,
Maybe I'm the one that's wrong.
This shower floor has got me thinking,
There are many paths to chose from,
The problem is there are so many,
And I only want the right one.