I love being disy
So out of control yet in control so out of control yet in control so out of control I can’t stand straight yet I’m not on the floor; leaning against a door a solid item an ancer.
I haven’t dropped myself being disy, the fun comes in walking while I am, unsure which path is true which path is doubled . Should I stop and go back but I’m not on the floor so I keep pushing on and on and on and . Man. It’s so fun, I’m so out of control it gives me a control I didn’t know I had. A control I wish I could place on the rest of my life , a guilt free drug simply stretched, yawned, stood to quickly gravity is trying to place me back down but I’m here for the ride for the spinning.
But if I kept spinning like a top. If I went with my first thought my first call to bite and claw. I’ll stop spinning. I’ll be knocked to the floor with a wave of chaos and guilt, the laughs ringing in your ear isn’t because it’s funny because your funny because I’m funny. When you don’t know what to do , you laugh. Harder, until you’re spitting up blood and it starts to show. The stage wasn’t yours to begin with while you may beg for the spot light.
When will you know what’ll put you under a red light , a stop sigh the blur of red you saw to late as you run of the edge of your scale.
Maybe I’m just being dramatic and a kiss to the forehead and time to rest will leave maybe. Just a bad memory spun away , man. I love being so so disy I can’t even stand