There's a tickle in your throat
That's there to let you know
This isn't in your hands.
You think it's chaos
Dressed in green
Dashing your dreams
On mossy rocks
Then locking your heart
In the rustiest locks,
But mother tells you
It's for your own good.
These mirrored walls
Stand far too tall
And you lean on them
From weary legs.
They wobble as you brace
Yourself with your arms
And you're finding the devil
In a display of your charm.
Sure you mean no harm,
But the lights are flashing
From the sounded alarm.
Sometimes the taste will take you away
Sometimes the sun will set on your day,
Sometimes you're willing to put up a fight
Sometimes the truth is you're furthest from right.
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