I race along the rarest road,
To subjugate the scenes I’ve sold,
As though they were a part of me,
And not just what I show.
My last, she fed and watered me,
Yet the house we built, at night, it creaked.
It’s foundations; tectonic plates,
A mind each of its own.
That's how I know; I need to go.
The pace of plates with other plans
Can prove too much for any man
The science; sound, our lives just prone
To continental drift.
"It’s alright, it’s okay, I’ll be just fine,
I’ll never make mistakes next time";
Lies foamed from this mouth of mine
To make conversation shift.
That's how I know; I need to go.
This carousel of lunar shifts responds to me, resound and swift.
My wake up call like siren song; my body at your will.
I see your eyes gleam empathy but inebriated, mine can’t see;
A blindfold held at lock and key; a bomb waiting to go off.
The worst thing to remember is
I’d never want for any of this.
I feel my body crying out
For a hand of mine to hold,
A once shaky voice comes screaming loud
To tell me I’ve been acting out,
A sad play seen some time before
But only now retold.
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