who even are you that I write
you're certainly not him, not with his lazy attitude and familiar habit of storming through my mind..
no, you're of some other kind of disaster
a figment of my imagination run far too wild, for too long
perhaps an earthquake, bringing the world down around me, leaving my feet on solid ground
if only to watch me fall when you open up your maw from beneath me, listening to my ragged breathing
I see you, slipping around inside my head, leaving cracks behind you, leaving them to prove that you were there
I can not ignore the ground shaking under me, though I try
a figment of my imagination run far too wild, a tale told many times
but who are you, a lowly hitchhiker lost within my mind
and maybe your grumbling is suppose to be a sign, of wanting to be free of me, same as I
but if you stopped ripping me to shreds we could work together,
but if you stopped, how would that impact the weather
I hated the storms, hate them more than you
so.. what if you stayed instead, let you wreck you havoc in my head, if only I wont have to taste the rain
I give them disasters as they give me mine.
