Willow branches,
a basket case kind of person with messy hair
Feelings gone in the wind,
by the time we're clearing it out, and masking
up, whenever there's a hint of love in the air,

But you still don't have a clue,
rhymes, rhythm, and riddles; usually the questions dancing
around, to feel the same- but not a correspondence of the two
You and I, trying to see a poor connection,
while ringing up the reasons on different area codes
and on disconnected Wi-Fi. What's there for us to do,

When you smile so crooked, on the straight and narrow,
speaking so loosely of yourself, and being walked
over by people with loose shoe laces- they're just a blunt arrow
You know the type; that never really get a point,
but would score any chance of making you their girl
To try and fit the two; love and trust. But they're just
blowing smoke in the wind, of a social joint,

Still I've know many trying to gain love with a cheque,
ticking all of the right boxes just to do it
And I heard one of them bought you shoes
with that fake Nike check,

So nowadays, you just give people that sour face,
pulled as a fool, that you choose to pull your face
And any sweet nothing, has a bitter taste in the end,
a misleading ***** intention, and you're now this
bitter ugly mess.