You are weary, I think Of endless puzzles and games And short romantic flames
You have grown disenchanted With everything Every stupid girl and foolish fling
You are bored Of things built upon passing waves Of all these conformists, these slaves
You have grown spiteful Against people whining and nagging And keeping secrets and bragging
And you are exasperated, maybe, With all your toys breaking As soon as you take them out of their boxes
It may be you are sick Of instability and castles of crumbling sand Of things reeling and getting out of hand
You have grown impatient With cheaters and capricious ****** Who claim they are forever yours
You are tired, perhaps Of feeling alone And things aching through no fault of your own
I may not be The sturdiest thing you've ever laid eyes on I am little, and frail And weak and pale And I stumble when it's windy out But I know, without a doubt That for you I will be strong That I will never do you wrong I'll keep you from going off the brink Because you are weary, I think