In my old age, I am still young.
Getting more punk?
Something people grow out of.
What is sadness?
Why is it a thing?
I was never one to jot down my thoughts.
What is life?
What is love?
Questions i thought i had figured out when i was younger.
When did this happen?
What is change?
Should things change?
As i look at myself It seems that
Change is irrelevant it happens to the best of us.
As time goes by I still have no answers,
Like lost ships sinking with the sunset,
Ramblings & drawings in notebooks just to pass the time
Saving myself from myself, unfinished sentences that evoke a feeling.
It took me a while, it took me a while,
It took me your grace your charm & a smile.
It took me a while, it took me a while,
It took me a while,
It took me a while, it took me your grace your smile.
It took me a while, it took me a while,
It took me a while, it took me a while to admit that i miss you...