There are days where I am high upon a dusk cloud
And rustic skylines bleed into bare trees

There are days where I bleed into white sheets
And I never leave the the lights on

There are days, and then more days
And minutes within smiles,
seconds ticking laughter, half assed conversation among fruitful hallways

Strawberry girl smiles and she would hate that I called her that
And maybe she would hit me and maybe I’m an *******, and maybe I’m a baby

And I’m a baby.

I remember not knowing I could die, not ever thinking about my heart, not ever waisting any time.
I should be that way now,
And yet as clocks continue to tick I just hum along in the warmth
So sometimes days become weeks
But sometimes days are just too short
And some days I am just to short
For the heights  I want to reach

I remember jumping had a different connotation when I was a kid...