Why must it be this way,shades of blue but mostly gray.
My head tingles, eyes wander, of distant memories I sit and ponder.
Is any of it real, a dream, an experiment in the making?
Is the sunlight on my skin, a feeling the universe is faking?
Am I really a good husband, a great father, or a decent person at best? Or am I a flock of a feather waiting in line like the rest. Some days I’m fine, while others I miss the burn of wine.
This can’t be real, I just feel it can’t be. I’m struggling with happiness from false fear of tragedy. I’m losing my mind, but this time won’t make the first. I remember the white gloves, top hat, and for only whiskey I’d thirst.
Madness in revolution, how can this type of shit be? I haven’t felt this confused since the age of 19. Does this blanket linger then brighten its colors every few years? Am I doomed to a revolving pattern, do I cry upon deaf ears?
What is the sky, and where is the ground? Why do I keep hearing these sounds?
Please lock my doors, I see someone coming!!
Oh no, it’s just me, from myself I am running..