Anxious return to the relatively normal
Didn’t have time to engrave nothing formal
If this anxiousness is normal I’d rather be strange
I’m sick of feeling like this and I’m sick of trying to change
I’m sick of counting syllables
I’m sick of hunting rhymes
I’m sick of thinking up excuses
why I’m not up with the times
I’m sick of trying to come up
with some money making scam
I’m sick of my potential
and I’m sick of what I am
return to the old order
in anxiety and funk
And dismal recollection
of a lot of cast off junk
No fantasies of transformation
Daydreams of escape
illusions of some rescue
by some joker in a cape
what
No comments:
Post a Comment