She's Perfect, So Flawless, I'm Not Impressed.

My Fear Is That I Go Up To The Girl Of My Dreams And Say 'i'm Sorry, But I've Got To Say Hello To You,' And She Slides The Stool Back And Gets Up And Walks Away, Saying, 'not For Me, Bub. I Don't Want Anything To Do With You.'

The Outcome Of A Still Veracitless Life. Am I Livin' It Right?

I'm Interested In Living More Of A Life That's Invisible To Everybody And More Vibrant To A Fewer People That Are In My Life.

I'm A Mess Of Unfinished Thoughts.

I Need Some Kind Of Emotional Stake In It To Write My Lyrics, Assuming That Place. It Might Just Be An Emotion I Understand But Am Not Currently Experiencing Necessarily.