Mid March trying to dream
Crazy like a free man
Strung out on dreams he won’t see
If I could have back the time spent there
I would be a millionaire
Sleeping feeling like somebody else
Am I the only one who hates himself?
Running a round so frantic
Calm down and panic
How do you win?
I often look back down the path and begin to examine
I often look ahead trying to peel apart destiny
That is not my job, my job is to live on the edges much like the greats
One day to emancipate from all these weights
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Gregory... HAHA! ! I so had to read this one! ! ! From all the WAITS of one day at a day... Sweet Jesus.... Good luck! ! ! and if you get there... from the edges... let me know they are come in varieties tuther than sharp or smooth, round or square...