College, Man.

The Flow

Sometimes the rivers all I know,
and that's one thing I'll always find,
'Cause all that matters is the flow,
all that matters is what's on my mind.

Today the sky was clear and blue,
with a chance of thunderstorms.
And I didn't know what to do,
except hide out in my dorm.

Because the risk is all too much,
the rain is all too cold.
I don't have the magic touch,
and these days are getting old.

The weather man fooled me,
when the summer came to end.
He showed the forecast sunny,
but forgot the storm at hand.

I guess I shouldn't blame him,
I guess everything's all right.
Who thought something grim,
could stay on past the night?

Nobody in all of existence,
would've predicted all of this.

We prayed for this rain,
we hoped for the harvest.
But we forgot to seed the gain,
and everything we'd promised.

Now this river flows,
Deep inside of my head.
Now the truth shows,
what reality is instead.

It's the constant changing,
the water's ever moving.
I'm always rearranging,
and never improving.

It's Dark clouds at Summer's end,
like coffee before bed:
Sleep becomes pretend,
thoughts flowing through my head.