thisisallwrong

pratice tying knots into your ribbon
the magnetic thought of repetition
now and again i clean up this mess
a simple task with dull completion

and now as bottles clutter my room
i can't help but pretend
that the red on the carpet
was another useless death

wasted time, a wasted life
the smoke stings my eyes
with a glimpse of color in black and white
and a calendar that doesn't keep time

day cracks new shining sights
and night fills us with black feelings
but i sing "this little light of mine,
oh how i'm gonna let it shine"

now i'm just confused
a jumbled thought with a sloppy melody
a fool for the song that doesn't exist
about ideas that don't belong to me

i'm staring at letters and words,
that don't make any sense
looking through glasses
with a broken lense

the confusion leads to the conclusion
that we'll never be free
as the clock stares me down
trying to stay busy in mediocraty