I don't get to make mistakes.
Nothing I do is impulsive or rash.
Cold. Calculated. Meticulous.
Never spontaneous.
My blood never runs hot
and I'm not
reckless as my age would confess.
They say I never had the mind of a child
and they're right I guess

Now my head is on my shoulders
Firmly
But I can't help but wonder
Were we
meant to be bold so we can live?
Because I'm crawlingoutof my skin
Simmering red racingthrough my veins intomychestand
I want to breathe FIRE
No more plans
No more future
And I'm-
terrified
The world starts spinning
I start to cool
All the worries all the questions all the plans...
They never did me any good anyway
So before I can think
before I can doubt
Before I lose out
on another beautiful thing my caution causes me to miss
I'll make mistakes,
...if you insist