Piccadilly proud, look at how loud I can be,  I wish I was not so fond of me.
The songs I sing to me, I wouldn’t expect it to feel ordinary.
I wonder how extraordinary you could become? With love from me to me.
I’m sure we’re living, giving all we can.
The alley cats of my mind crazy for one another, oh bother, its happened again.
Grab the memory from when you had to learn the hard way.
Grey owls hoot today.
Not the type to be easy, tense, always failing to be breezy.
The words come terribly from his rigid lips.
The pain of enduring the component of what not to say.
Why doesn’t this flow?
The way it is supposed to go,
if it ever occurs,
I’ll let you know.
My woes so crudely archived,
I’ll crow if I have to.

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