Gatsby saw a green light across the sea;
I see a red one in-between the trees,
And hear your frightened callings and pleas,
Your vocal desires to again see
The missing love you desperately need,
The love that gently hides within the reeds
Watching and waiting, so fiercely it feeds
Like the stalker hiding up in the tree.
But I am not the twisted, sick ******,
And I did not ask you for "your prices," --
In my defense, everything was hazy.
I was at home and should have remained there
And listened to my father's advices
When he warned me not to fall for crazy.