I’m nervous when you’re around,
My mouth dries up,
Can’t make a sound,
I like the texts we send each other,
But you don’t care,
You’ve got some other,
Guy to help you out,
I want to scream,
But I can’t even shout,
With the desert buried in my throat,
I still cry,
inside my boat,
Along a river filled with tears,
From lonely men,
And their fears.
As I travel along this solemn path, I
think of you,
Miss Grapes of Wrath,
Even hen I poured my heart out,
You could never risk,
A simple fallout.
But when it’s time to part our ways,
I won’t look back,
on these days.
A solemn lonely drop in my throat,
Could have saved,
this empty bloke.
There’s something at the end of the road,
A beating heart,
Consumed by it’s woes.