The Boy, The Deadbeat, and The Golden State

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 19, 2016

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Submitted: April 19, 2016

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Back when I was thirteen I used to believe in love

Now, he's bombarded with insecurities and he thinks he's had enough

When I was a boy of twelve I used to gaze at the stars

Now he sits in a dreary cold room singing out these bars

When he was young and naiive he accepted things as they are

Now he can't go a minute without his mind divulging that far

Yes, he was raised in the golden state with the sunshine paramount

Now he sits dreary eyed in a room somewhere letting the darkness muck about

As a boy his grandfather told him, kid you're never gonna get far

Now he lays in his despair counting up the stars

He sits there in wait as his fairytale heart convulses and begins to tear him apart

He's wasted away his days standing in the dusk alone.

He laughs and smiles but he's never really felt at home.

He's made a sport of counting the knots and orfices in his heart

He laughs and cries because he hasn't got a clue

Son, you got no idea what this morbid fog and heartsick infestation has done to you

scraping at this deadbeat piece of shit soul that clogs and pollutes

Wishing he could turn back time and let the wheel start a new

Few survive this game of lies, few can see through,

Do you know that feeling when you're weak and ya,

Wishing you could end the pain and ya

Leave your life wide open in the pouring rain but ya

waiting for the thoughts to suffocate themselves in their sap of delusions and 

they never ever do, oh well.

Being thrown in all directions under a fog of misconceptions blinded to his own perfections lost a saving grace of affection clouded with fradulent corrections.

And to my captor's satisfaction, he loves to watch the action

Oh my, Oh my, is this truth or fiction

And now I've defeaned the hysteria and sounds

And now I watch my heart twist and twine and drown

Please tell me it's over now,

He wants to make a difference 

bring some deliverence

but sometimes he doesn't know how

sometimes he lets his thoughts, passions and ambitions lurk about

Never really adored the big neon signs

and never found myself gaving at the blue jean sky

Just been caught up in what it means to 

wash my veins clean- new

wanted to strand myself in a forest abode

could spend my days with silence- no distractions- just the thoughts of my own-

Wouldn't worry about my arteries twisting and turning like they were a road.

Only roads I would ever see is the black pavement I know

Yes- can i take some time to dive and become my own

So my lovesick flesh no longer must bend

but, no that is never how it ends

 

 

 


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