Don't be so sure that everything's fine, 'cause I'm fallin' short on every line. I'm searchin' for words that just aren't written, and my masterful improv... Well, let's just say it's been a while since I last took the stage.
I'm a whirlwind balancing act of do this and do that - never ever let on that you're stressed. There's a word for what I'm doing (or maybe it's a phrase...) - "Deception grin to bear it." And who am I deceiving? Myself, but not anyone else. (They all know how little sleep I'm getting.)
Would you stop calling me 'love' when it seems to be falling apart? We've no more to say and so resultingly scream 'romance'. I can feel the gulf growing large and I'm not sure what to do. (Is it not ironic that the control freak is the one most often helpless?)
We are the contrast, the highlight and the shadow, the OCD and the ADD of people. We balance, we turn, we dance, we tumble. And I think you're winning. What the HELL'S going on?
I tell myself to trust, to stop doubting, to let go and ride on out to the end destination (wherever that may be.). But I am just too scared. I once said I was the Queen of Overanalyzing, and it's truer than ever. I want to know what's happening and why and I know it'll be the catalyst for my decadence. (It doesn't mean I can stop.)
Are you resorting to nonexistent scripts, too? 'Cause I don't think everything's fine, but maybe you're blind or the folly is mine. (What's going on?)
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