clear skies; it's a jazzy feel.
i just rolled up, made a coffee, cooked a decent meal.
you know, that's half a decade on this v shit;
alive for over two but only got a half to see shit. (i'm 22.)
guess i'm a rock 'n roll suicide.
i'm picky; when it comes to having quickies, i put you aside,
'cause you seem more than just another fling.
'i'm fat and i'm unwanted.' i'm like damn, what is she uttering?
now she's so stoned that she is stuttering.
still only fresh out of the womb; her lifestyle's over cluttering.
see, she's on her own pursuit of happiness;
still searching for that thing in life that will make her the happiest.
she doesn't know the art of this
confidence of an artist's bliss.
are we alone yet? can we finally kiss?
i see potential in her confidence.