Memories of scattered brains
Coffee mugs and innocence
Trying and failing to make sense
Four or five years made no difference then
These Saturdays might be everything someday
Grey clouds above trees of
Orange and red gaze at me
Our youthful adventures before life began
Are not any longer
Our youthful adventures are not any longer
Why can't these things
Sort themselves out
Why can't i learn
To be myself
Why can't these things just sort themselves out