Trick Stick

Paint your world

The same color as mine

Tell me if you want to jump

Or if everything is fine

 

Love me

 the way you bleed

in a way my eyes can see

Say my name, and I’ll concede

 

What good is a bragging stick

when all it does is make you sick

What good is it to be the best

when you’re set aside from all the rest

What good is a bragging stick

When all it does is make you sick

Joyful, Joyful, I thought it was

Fooling my emotions, getting the wrong kind of buzz

 

Can you ever

Put me on top

No matter the type of weather

You’ll never hear “stop”

 

Why can’t I

Ever get caught in the middle

Stuck in between and riding high

not like a guitar, but playing you like a fiddle

 

Where are your Blues

among all this bloodshot red

Rolling the dice and looking for rules and other clues

Trying to talk down the voices inside my head