Everytime I picked up a pen I felt progress
And everytime it touched paper the weight of my world had been lifted
Always drawn back to the top of my snare drum
Where I wrote most of my art
Resting on a A4 note pad, trying to figure out the best way to express both my head and my heart
They've always been so far apart
Tuned to different frequencies
But I'll try my best to broadcast both parts