could it   be constant variations of a mis-firing heart?   my wishing well is running short and now i know   that all my quarters have been   mistakenly thrown in   im left with nothing except my own pocket linen.   ask the passers-by to stop their stride, "can you   spare me a coin or two even if its just a nickel"?   it will have to do for now   i need the sound   of dreams leaving my hand and my feet leaving the ground   oh why do you   change my point of view?   im so easily amused by you.   and you're      looking code red, this is danger   why have i become such a stranger   even to   even to myself   i should be trying to get sober   oh well, the night is almost over   and i am   i am all alone      the only cloud in the sky   shakes hand with gusts of wind as it flies by   her shared mentions of carefree kites.   un-intentional downward glances.   i keep them ambiguous enough for me to manipulate   into my own equation for answers   never submitted to the multiplication chart   maybe then i could've patched the ceiling with these writings   they might just make themselves worth something someday   and this gram of hope   next to all the other substances i sell,   offering the world a short lived release   and a collar kept a notch too tight   notch too tight   the look is   mistaken   oh please, what are you taking   from me i had to be the turtle.   but the camera chooses where we lay   all the two makes caring days. all the "hey's,"   armored truth makes sewers sweat. we are distant.   you're too artistic for some   you're too artistic for some   oh darling, you're timing is genuine.      looking code red this is danger   why have i become such a stranger   even to   even to myself   i should be trying to get sober   oh well, the night is almost over   and i am   i am all alone      we could play a game of emotional stickball.   i can catch it if you can toss it.   my eyes arent as deep and you should never dive blindly into them,   but until then,   wet your feet.