everything's just fine
the rhymes that the poets wind
they're alright, they're platonic
and the laughs are outward
and the sighs are quiet
this time, everything's fine

no use in trying to make them cry
i ask why
but gingerly turn your eyes
everythings fine, no reason
and the feelings are there
but the feelings arent rare

if things were not
if times were hot
if we were brought
to the surface
everything would be harder, and raw and coarse and real
but
here we feel that
everything's.. fine;
you lie.