Why can't I ever Corral my thoughts and keep them together It's like my head is always under the weather I know reader I sound like a broken record
But
If you can place yourself in the position That fate decided to place me in When my head moves quicker than my mouth And sometimes slower than a dead fish in a drought
There's never an in between Its either up or down to the Nth of extremes I try to keep my composure but I always end up making a scene