If I were to write a letter to the one that I remember I would etch it on the face of the sky
If I were to write a sonnet for the boy who lost his wallet I would compose a verse that kept him wondering why
Because we all find joy in something that encompasses our wanderings
A word, a quote, a faint remembrance of pride
But we always miss the problems cause the ego says he'll solve them
In my years all he's ever done is lied