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Description
You're just such a little stickler (aren't you?)
Ready to stick me in the back.
But when we meet (to beat)
A task so daunting
Lying and taunting.
   - It's not just empathy you lack.

Those stringent little strings (haha.)
Dragged along by your every word-
When we meet the little sphinxes,
It's not just their claws that hurt.
      Ouch.

Exchanging glances with stranger chances,
Of catching every fly.
That flies by,
With beating wings (whirring things)
And empty kaleidoscope eyes.

Fickle little freaks (fer-reaky)
With fancy little habits (of-)
Playing with their food before,
They eat it and demand some more.
       Tch.

Such a calm calamity,
With whirling seas of higher expectations.
And frothy fighters finding their way into your mind,
Bothering you, (Bickering)
And sending bright yellow flyers floating over your head.

Scary people with scars on their faces.
(And skin grafts in various places)
Strain to catch snippets of your conversation,
And when they do, crack wide, scarred (scary) smiles in elation.

- Cramming all this into my agenda,
Seems nigh impossible, but even then-
Somehow I manage with clandestine screams,
To balance these toppling, tumbling dreams.