sometimes you will find yourself in a maze of opportunities
and nowhere to turn.
stuck like a weed
in a patch of beautiful red flowers
i am the thorn,
stuck betweeen the clashing
pom poms
yelling voices
and blues.

la la la la la
la la

an angel sings,
swooping over me
like a vulture.
shes smiling because like most,
she knows something i don't.
white feathers fall from the wings
slowly fading
reaching the ground
turning black.

my hands are tied
and once again i lay back in the maze.
eating dandilions
as the music stops.

im thinking of an angel
but all i hear is a million of people
whispering
which way to go.