yes, you're busted - kind of like spitting lyrics
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will you call me a genius when i write down all my
fears? when i’m locked in my
room all day trying to sound
like it’s been years? and
when i exaggerate to make the
meaning count, will you count
on me or will you count me
out? we have stopped to
admire the ones who don’t wash their clothes. that
narrow their glance at the
dance but soften their eyes
for shows. what a big
surprise, the end of the
night, the sets for you.
you’re not sure if you know
him, but he wants you to
think that you do.
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