I’m sorry every single day
and if you can’t see that
you’ve got **** twisted
I’m missing that connection
that magnetic friction
of conversation
interpretation
of the art we live in
the art we create in…
but in isolation
I can only hold on for so long
until not even my calluses can keep a grip on this
can’t say I’m surprised you lost it
but I’ll always wish you didn’t
and you say I’m the one on a trip
you’ve been on one since I’ve met you
convinced that change isn’t necessary
growth isn’t for me
you say
maybe not with your mouth
but in between the margins it lays
I’m sorry every single day
and if you can’t see that
…you never knew me anyway