Running With Scissors

I'm running with scissors throwing caution to the wind jumping the fences that used to rein me in be damned what they think; or think that they know I'm not quite finished nor is it time for you to go I'm sliding down the banister of the stairs that lead up and I am still thirsty for what runs over my cup it's not really a mountain breeze, more like a hurricane the thunder still crashes and there's lightning just the same we've come this far with still more paths to travel held together with glue so we don't come unraveled I don't think we're even close to being done another night passes and up comes the sun