So ive been writing down everything I see  scribble in the hope of something to achieve  Its not that I see so much, or that im so smart that   I pick up the things that you cant read   And if you say that im inspired   Then you would be a liar cause   Im driven by my apathy with the things laid out in front of me   And its hopeless when I get this way  And inspiration has no other way for me    The fact that I can’t pick the words when I, sit down to try,  Defines my life  So I’ll just keep trying to relieve, you of your sympathies, and im so sorry    So you think im hot and bothered  And your right I cant recover   But its not what you think  I cant help but write down all my thoughts, its been that way since i heard that   Song so long ago and   If you say that im inspired then  You would be a liar cause  Its just jumbled memories that I regurgitate with such ease  And its hopeless when I get this way  And my pen wont scratch the paper the way I like    It’s the therapy that we all need except my diary is for all to read  and if its not for you that’s fine by me, just let me be, no apologies     and if you listen you’ll hear the sounds of growing up  its restless and confusing but with a little luck  I will take the songs that I hear and pin them on the spinning wheel  Of the tape that rolls in my mind, fragile, in a broken line