my thoughts have escaped on the breeze whistling soft through the pine needles
we long for normal but cannot agree on what normal used to be
if you can
the fogged up window speaks clearly of my feelings about tomorrow
when the clocks fall back we are reminded that time is all relative
there is history in everything we touch that we’ll never know
we shouldn’t be fooled by someone who claims to be something they are not
where it’s possible it is also probable no matter the odds
we should be focused on what’s important; so they create distraction
when we’re done with it we’ll just build a big rocket and move someplace else
uptown jack 