by How About No Scott
In people's eyes, there is whiteness
What are they looking at?
Only the walls witness this metamorphosis
They see his so called variety of fake bliss
An idealist at heart, but pragmatic in training
What is he afraid of?
The society possibly, or just maybe acceptance
I never understand his arguments' relevance
Wanting things is not good enough to succeed
Will he ever do it?
Go for the job, woman, and life!
I see him sometimes with a knife
"Too bad," they are all going to say
"What went so wrong?"
I'll look down through the cold rain
If I only had enough ink to explain