January
Tuesday 27 November 2007 photo 1/1
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I don't want to be part of the problem. I try so hard to get roughed up. Fists on up, it looks that easy. It looks that way to me, It looks that way to you. But then there's you telling me I can. Then there's you screaming say something. There I am in the morning, I don't like what I see. I don't know how it's become such a problem, Keep you up all night if I try to remain calm. How can they ask why I feel so angry Do you see my problem if I never explain it? But then there's you, asking me how long. Say something, it's taken me so long. I want the ocean right now.
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