There is never any sun on our yard;
Too many condos, and it’s not all that quiet,
Not where we live, not with all the construction.
I found myself when I moved here,
Started writing again every day,
While building a tolerance,
And I fell in love, and not in that order,
Love must’ve brought it all…
Love needs us to be careful and use our heads,
I’ve come to believe that our loves for each other
Need us too…but regardless of how or who,
There is never any sun on our yard,
And my words steer passed me these days
As I swerve within myself;
In whirlpools of psychedelic waves,
I have drowned so many times,
But man will always complain, and so have I.
Maybe I’m not much of a man, but regardless of that,
There is never any fucking sun on our yard,
And the blue jays don’t sit for too long around here,
But you still see them, you just have to look closely.