My mind is a smoke that rises to the ceiling
a growth we can't control with out any healing
Whisper sweet words and keep all focus in gears
When can I see you and when can I be near
Forget what I said, when I was easily hurt
Become what they ask and rise from the dirt
If you've got it and don't use it, it's a sin so they say
And nothing so different could amount to the typical cliche
The money won't come and the heads wont turn
To another mind scattered into a pile of concern
