Québec

she does 

I'm sure she does

til' i'm blue in the face and my face is balloon

I blow up and I get angry and sad

and at nighttime is a nice time

when I reach climax I reach for my heart

I tell it to calm itself down

because it's no thorax 

I cannot despair so much as a minute

that would be wild 

I would shoot for the moon if I had trust in my barrel

and now when I shoot

and a flag won't come out I come out with

a prayer, an answer, I analyze myself to death

am I really real?

I don't even know who I am anymore

I haven't focused in … years

still I do almost everything very often

and it does almost nothing very often

I don't even know who I am 

if I did I'd be writing more often

and it wouldn't be about me

why would it?

talk? I'd just look out for you

because that's what I believe I should do

i'm feeling good mostly

but not great