Streams of Consciousness
A flood of thoughts
I find myself thinking them over
Rather religiously
They get caught up in the flood sometimes
And spill out without a warning sign
And it all rains down in piles
Like an ocean brought to life
And since when is being sober
Just not worth our time?
We're putting in the miles
Without a statement to return with
And we're practicing the lies
In which we'll tell
to blur the line
Between intuition and confusion
Are we making forward progress
To a proper state of mind?
I feel as though we're backtracking
Is this our warning sign?
And it all rains down in piles
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