Colors I couldn't choose
spread out over old wood
this place becomes my muse
nothing which I ever should
An old speaker wiped of dust
it plays music intrinsic to me
simple dance moves I trust
keep my feet where I can be
As the latex paint dries I see
emotional brush strokes rise
underneath colors strive to be free
earlier moments of memory dries
Sitting, waiting, in ernest fascination
smiling, stepping, my how I feel
there isn't any explanation
emotions we all try to steal
somewhere I am trying to feel
there isn't any explanation
we all just want to feel
