Your words spit truth
but even truth isn't always truth after a couple hours of thinking about it.
I often daydream of all these things I'd like to do
things that would make you like me
keep me
things that would make me like me
but they end as just dreams,
and I am
so
tired
of
that.

Tonight will be me on a skateboard,
spray-painting my village something yellow.
I hope I'll like it as much as the truth thinks I will.