A man in straitjacket unable to drive,
Building a life he doesn't want to build, but then it's life.
To get more worldly, I would smell the scent of Ezee from your pullover.
To get more worldly, I would compare the schools I studied in, and the ones you did.
To get more worldly, I would compare how I'm still struggling to be the man that I think you deserve.
My heart deserves your heart, and that I know in my heart,
But life is not about what hearts deserve,
It's about what the stomachs deserve,
It's about what bank accounts deserve.
You inspire in me, a comedian, a poet, a man wanting to give you anything you want.
You inspire me to give you the best in me that I kept hidden from everyone else.
I'm forged in pain, and being a healer I knew that the only thing that could ever heal me was you.
But the world is not about healing, it's about stomachs and bank accounts.
You make me believe in next life, maybe then I would have what I think you deserve, maybe then I would be a good driver, and we would drive into the sunset smoking cigarettes.
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