I feel the words I write mean less and less each day. They blend together and confuse the reader, Muddle the flow, As each thought forms a current and pushes in its own direction. And at this point... I'm being torn apart.
Turn it around in the grass it's summer, I'm getting' older Sun's up hot who knows If life does get better. When will all my friends show up? Today I'll stay level, Just enjoy the normal, No need for exceptional, It's so flighty And always flies away.
I am like the wind That blows in the ring I am like the hand That throws the punch I am like the land That feels the crunch When indeed the snout And the nose feel the bout