Being in love the way I am,
Having loved the way I have…
It’s confused, well
But that sense of confusion is derived from self-doubt.
Is this real?
I’ve thought so before.
But I was always making
There is none of that here,
in this silly make-believe life that,
We’ll have to go without.
Getting tossed back into the shitstorm
that makes up everybody’s everyday.
How is this going to fare?
Carless, trying to call it freedom in my head but
since my Special Someone is
I can’t quite call it freedom, because really?
What is being free if it isn’t being able to buckle up, tighten up, fuel the fuck up and get on your way!?
The places we call home don’t give us freedom from that particular obligation.
Some day we’ll be small-town folk with big-town love.