conjob

i see red everywhere,you
look blue.
stress spreads in the air,
i am not unglued.
actually truth is that i am stuck,
fuck.
but look at you,
waving back
from hell.

my words seem severe,
but you dodge them out.
back to when things where clear,
we go as driving back.

i wish to open up fast,
and say what's on my mind.
but you find
it ain't vast.
and i get behind.
past is a blast on my weary mind.


Рецензии