Wayward Son

What do you want?

What do you want?

Am i doing this right?

Is this okay?

My mind is an oasis of peace where birds sing and the sun never sets but there's always sunsets.

I found joy all alone, because i had no one tangible.

no one to reach out to and grab into my arms.

No one to tell me hey its alright, i know what you're going through, and its okay.

I spent hours on my knees before i had the strength to stand up.

I had so many hurts that they didn't hurt.

so much dirt in my eyes that i had to learn to see in the dark.

I don't go to many people, 

I don't follow celebrities and I don't call many people my friends.

Don't get me wrong, i am many peoples friend. 

I'll be there for you when you need me to, even if you won't do the same.

 Its part of what i believe in.

you're part of what i believe in

But shit. 

i don't know what you want.

i don't know how to be there for you

i don't know how to find you

i don't know what I'm doing right or wrong anymore.

Remember that Oasis i talked about.

well the waters have been poisoned. 

the trees are withering and the sand is sinking.

I want nothing more but to take a swim in the warm waters i once knew.

I want to swim with you, like we have.

But I no longer know where my oasis with you is. 

Maybe the waters have dried and I'm drifting through deserts chasing 

caliginous memories.

but i dip my toes in the water when i close my eyes 

and i remember where and who started this.

I hope, no i pray, that you and me can go down into the river.

But I'm starting to doubt you'd go in with me even if i found it.

I don't know whats to come, I'm not as certain as i once was.

but i certainly know that my love for you has not changed.

But the way i see your love certainly has.

call me dramatic, and as i do love the theatre,

 as does every play have an end,

and I've raised my hands because i'm not the writer just the pen.

but I've run out of ink.

and i've got to many thoughts I've ought to think.

and although i think you are the one for me

I'm beginning to read your pages over, and overly overwhelmingly I am beginning to see

that maybe I am not the one for you.

my love, my love will never change,

just only grow, thats why we grew to call it Toe

but now i read these pages and weep under the willow,

 as i wonder if i was to let you go,

If you'd find the feeling you felt for me but inevitably 

planted in the snow, 

these red curtains close but i don't know if its just a scene

 or the ending to our show

is this goodbye or is this hello?