I have this fear inside me, do I focus on it 
And does it just make me act like a twit
I find myself in St. Pat’s, ground floor
And everyone shines, my God, mo stór
As I’m lying in bed in Dean Swift at night 
And he’s illuminated by the bathroom light
He says it’s very bright
But I could look at him and sight
Is no burden 
But how would I word them 
This prose that sits inside
And I only ever hide
The best of me 
And the rest of me
Lies in wait
All the guys I’d love to date
But my heart won’t let me 
Soul won’t forget me 
And lead me down a merry path
One I might never find my way back 
From 
And it’s gone
That sudden sharp
Like Cleopatra playing the harp
It’s an illusion
And the confusion 
Was I trusted words
Instead of the flight path of birds
As they streak across the sky
And I am not afraid to die
But say that to a psy 
Chiatrist 
And you may get the gist
Of what I relay 
I eventually learned not to say
What was on my mind 
Because it leaves me behind 
Like an autumn tree 
And everything is fluttering from me 
As I’m out in the grass
With Mary Jean, I never had to ask 
Her to teach me how to knit
She wove the wool deftly as I sit 
And she came to my door
With something she’d baked on the first floor
And we ate it with my sister
God knows, I missed her
When I was locked away
And I don’t care what people say
Those places don’t help
They just teach you how to stand on a shelf
All pretty in pink 
And I used to think 
It was for a reason
Now I see it was just a season
I was passing through
Growing wings and flying too 
Beyond the veil 
And what’s not up for sale 
Will always be bought
By those who think they have caught
The value in it
And I didn’t win it
But let it go
There’s joy in defeat too, you know