Hey, you. Yeah, you.
Write whatever you can down
and no matter the weather
things will get better
whether you smile or frown
Because nosy clowns are just the beginning
Because in the short time I've been living I've been taught to keep on giving
to keep kissing all who are missing
My soul is unfitting
and I'm splendidly less than ten feet of riveting sittings
but I've got a fire empire made up of forty floors of stories
and beginnings
The sky crashes towards me
and in all my glory I see a propensity to become a different entity
one who is n-u-t-s
covered in the superficial coveting of a million doves
but I can't see who I am
it's still b u f f e r i n g
I fit uncertainty like a size 0 glove
The closest thing to God I've got is the thoughts I've brought to reality
which is practically nothing
I'm still suffering to become who I am, my kingdom's coming
The passion pit hasn't hit me yet
I'm still trashing the last of what's left
and I can bet you the rapid succession of depression
is deeper than the tender ember in my chest
that is sitting left-of-center.