I dream of you, it's a pain to awaken.
I grab the eggs then I grab the bacon.
I grab a pot then I grab a pan.
Just to imagine, i'm grabbing your hand.
The summer, hot, oozing with joy.
I long for the winter..
so it's normal to be a cold, lost, little boy.
(this is a little mo' hip hop, a little less 'poetry')
Sittin' here broken wristed, for once not twisted, so my thoughts have shifted,
drifted, far enough to realize that I am gifted, don't need to be high,
To my next lover,
I do apologize,
but the next I love you I say, will only be empty words.