If this is how you spend your time, I don't even care what you have to say anymore

I always said I'd wait until I had something important to say to write it down. Well maybe I'm just thinking that the rooms are all on fire. Your hair is everywhere. My insides are copper, I'd kill to make them gold. Hey everyone I got something to say- and so does a 17 year old pop country star, a sexy, armed conspiracy theorist politician and a cougar snatching Kabbalah appropriating underwear model. Starting now I'm breaking a promise I never should have kept.

I'm looking for the Da Vinci code in the status update. What does it mean that you ate that for breakfast? What grows in your garden and does that mean you love me? How will I know? If this is how you spend your time, I don't even care what you have to say anymore.

One sign is too many and one thousand signs are never enough. I don't speak this language.

And you say, I only hear what I want to. If I had two dozen roses. It's too bad I never had a journal, that I couldn't get over the fear or self importance and the performance of my words once found. Notes squirreled away in the wall and scratched into a fence and written on your neck weren't enough. I'd probably get on stage and get mortified to prove to myself that I'm alright I must be alright because my shit is OUT and I'm killing that part of me inside. It's not very true so I guess I had my future self importance in mind when I was keeping the secrets and throwing away the key.