It's quite concerning,
this place I find myself am at.
Take a deep breath, but O'Lord I hope it doesn't stench.
I'm a spoiled mood inside my heart, feeling like a brat.

It's quite concerning,
where I've come to be but never really see what's in front of me.
Probably closing my eyes way too much to try to keep on dreaming.
While kicking the world right off my plot for too much scheming.

It's quite concerning,
how I have my wings, but don't know how yet to fly.
Living on the kind of words that feed my dreams so I don't quickly die.

Probably losing my focus staring straight so long at a crooked world,
That makes me feel so dead inside like my own funeral.

And it's that concerning I'm too emotional that I don't know when to cry,
Nor knowing if I should keep my composure when wishing someone I miss already goodbye.

Though am I qualified of being the right person,
Cause sometimes everything of me is gone so fast, I'm all that's left.
And I choose to be lesser of the swearing type, but **** it I can't help without the cursing.

And it's rather concerning, so very much concerning.
And I don't know what's there to fix inside of me when I don't know what's really working.