Boys.
Confused.
Confus ing .
...Boys.
Me?
Unsure of myself?
Unheard of.
Boys enter stage left.
Concentration is impossible
Fumbling lines as my mouth runeth over
Working overtime with no pay
Deceiving actions
They all sidle closer
Smiling
Handing over a script
And pulling out the Chair.
Falling hard.
How the hell am I to know
Where I stand
When I'm swept Downstream
Without a paddle?
One solution.
Not quite a solution
Simply a Coping Mechanism.
Charge head-on
Heart in a Cage
Until
Charming...no.
Princes are Losers.
Until He shows up
All genuine smiles
With a Key
A Lifejacket
And a Chair that's Bolted to the freakin' floor.
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