I don't know how to tell you this
Lately everything has just been a mess
I'm hanging from your every word
Like a suicidal stranger on the edge of a bridge

They're all yelling don't jump
My senses say that the rush of of falling would be enough
To tell my poor soul
That all I want is control over my life again

The moon hangs like a calling card from home
They tell me it's not normal to be nocturnal
I wish they'd tell me something I don't know
They've been sending me messages is foreign code
Telling me that I need to conform
Have a kid, get a job and change my clothes

Well I can't say the same for everyone
I'm just trying to live my dreams
Without having to wake up
They shake their heads shamefully
When I tell them I'm focused on becoming something

When did society become about what you can contribute
I thought we only had this one body
One life to live through
If I spend it stoned
Writing from home
Dead set on releasing a book in the winter
Well I won't have done much
At least I can say I've been trying to make it
Although everyone seems to think it's easy being a writer

That makes my blood boil
I'd been writing sesame street fan fiction as a three year old girl
My way of life
My passion became a fad over night

So I might die broke
Unable to reconcile my passion with
The world I've come to know
No wonder I've always loved Van Gogh