bars keep inside a boy in the body of a man
twenty going on sixteen
you missed a few years of sobriety
Your mind is behind
wrapped up between the branches in the tree fort days
what would i know?
Dark concentration on the rear view mirror
could i be the face of a lesson?
couldn't we all?
My preparation is a turn off and it's ironic
because I'm not prepared for anything
Sometimes when i speak, i forget that the only thing open is your mouth
the shoal of a face faulty of its ears and eyes makes poor company
I, however, surround myself with a magic Eden in a carousal of bliss, all within the profile of a beautiful girl
I know what's real
Beauty misses it's crowd and just for a second she's not lonely
but when it stops to rain she loses sight of her own reflection
and realizes even water can become a tease
her own eyes have fooled her
You've got to stop playing tricks on me, mirror
It's reminding me too much of a night in a tent where i lay listening to you speak as i watched you diversify into an anteater.
I've been having way too much fun...
No comments:
Post a Comment