the stars have seen
our innuendos, our scorn, our biddings
they have known the depth
of all the seeds we've sown
all the time we've built
on acronyms, and fish polish, and purgatory
admired our ability to make mistakes
and stored for us a beauty above
now that it's not so important
I feel I cannot open
myself to anyone...
and would everyone please
let me off their shoulders?
i'm more than fine
i'm better than I was
And I don't need the fuss
I don't fucking need the fuss