Blindly falling over trampled mosses grown

(You're running you're running)

Disputed adhesive of your own

(It won't stick)

Tripping on nonsense, stumbling on gold

You're a pure poet on autopilot

(With excess equipment)

Paralyzed by the headaches you get

Let it unwind

Fresh fears, like wet clay, your hands shape

They'll wash away

Flirting with muses giving me perfect excuses

Scribble little nothings outlining my hubris in chalk

As they laugh in amusement, hah

Mental is muted, feeling diluted

Gotta go fix up my blueprints

Feeling so far from the passion I felt when I was first stricken by Cupid

Painting this portrait with nothing but force before the energy forfeits

Pray there's enough of this flame on this torch to keep us in orbit

Head is spinning and spinning just thinking to finish

I sit on this brook, wishing for fish on this hook

Looking for food for thought, but got nothing to cook

Fresh fears, like wet clay, your hands shape

They'll wash away