stems of the grappled dream
thrown to be burned with the rest
my habits, my intents
i don't have anymore marijuana
and i need it
my soul feels soiled from heavy rain
and i'm trying hard to see
what good things can come about
my room is a mess
i do not dare to clean it up
but for who?
it seems my only actions
have to have witnesses
and my words are few
and my song is undefined
oh how i pray for pasture
lit rooms and thoughts on dinasours
and the faces of angels
and big giant men
i'm emotional and subdued
i've cried a thousand different ways
for you and for you
and now my heart only wants
kisses and strangers
for the romance that i feel i'm being told
will happen
seems gulf wars away
seems pages of a tale of two cities away
seems i can't really enjoy it fully
knowing your somewhere else entirely