Nightingale
John Samaras
Always in my head
The recurring musings
Of delayed success
But to you I’m lazy
Deconstruct my past
For some brighter days
To break through the shade
Though it cuts like a razor
It’s hard to admit; the truth can burn
It’s a nasty habit that occurs
When no one’s watching over you
Just soar higher like a bird
One final serenade
Gives the breathe of life
To the man of clay
And all she heard were bum notes
It’s hard to admit; the truth can burn
It’s a nasty habit that occurs
When no one’s watching over you
Just soar higher like a bird
