this spring again; i transition
like a matter of fact or fiction
all that i was / all i can be
is laid out plainly for me to see

there's choices here
and choices there
decisions to make almost everywhere
which is right, and who is wrong?
all i know is this song:

i wish to be somewhere plain and fair
perhaps a woman with golden hair
a place that i can call my own
what's next? for her to pick up the phone