not everything is smoke and mirrors. except what if it is?

going over every last sentence, changing all the meanings to something more.
there is no compensation. either you're right or i'm proving you wrong but it can't be both.

i am just the foreman on the loading deck. and you're home early but i'm drinking coffee with my feet up.

head is clear but fits the mold.

"i've got that lefty curse where everything i do is flipped and awkwardly reversed."

i can't sleep my heads all messed up and weird inside. 11.11 i wish my head would just stop thinking long enough so i could sleep.

i miss smoke bombs and rolling down hills. hoping you will understand. usually you do but we've been a bit out of sync these days. these days all i can think about are those days. always find myself trading "the now" for "how it was" even though i should be trading wise for zs.

we are life preservers after the wreck. we are why it's "funny how things change".
the only thing we are in control of is our lack of control. we've got our anthem and we'd do anything to keep it and hips together.