A little book
She brought me a little book
From that very large place
And I took a look
At a page
It's for me to fill out
For me to write in
But I gotta chill out
Before I dive in
I don't want to remember
The crazy thoughts I have
Maybe by September or November
A dash of sanity I'll grab
And I'll write in that book
That small pretty thing
-----------------------
11/11
This
Could be
The last time
----------------------
And I'd fill the whole thing up with all of my thoughts and what I thought about Drake and Josh and how I eat my apple pie and what I would choose if I could choose how to die and I'd write about all my adventures with her and all of it would be such a blur but I'd keep on writing about the fall and the leaves and what would happen if the world was dominated by bees and I'd write with my left hand on a poor little page because I want the world to know that I am surely no mage but I'd also mention all the awesome time that I spent with her and why I write these rhymes and I'd describe my mind on a 24/7 basis by drawing a picture of her and all of her greatness and if my grandchildren were to ever read the book they would immediately stop to make sure I'm not Hook because Peter Pan was never this crazy, but all the authors were always lazy because my brain is in absolute chaos and my brain has never said "whatever you say, boss" because it does things without me telling and I'm not sure I've ever tried rebelling.
From that very large place
And I took a look
At a page
It's for me to fill out
For me to write in
But I gotta chill out
Before I dive in
I don't want to remember
The crazy thoughts I have
Maybe by September or November
A dash of sanity I'll grab
And I'll write in that book
That small pretty thing
-----------------------
11/11
This
Could be
The last time
----------------------
And I'd fill the whole thing up with all of my thoughts and what I thought about Drake and Josh and how I eat my apple pie and what I would choose if I could choose how to die and I'd write about all my adventures with her and all of it would be such a blur but I'd keep on writing about the fall and the leaves and what would happen if the world was dominated by bees and I'd write with my left hand on a poor little page because I want the world to know that I am surely no mage but I'd also mention all the awesome time that I spent with her and why I write these rhymes and I'd describe my mind on a 24/7 basis by drawing a picture of her and all of her greatness and if my grandchildren were to ever read the book they would immediately stop to make sure I'm not Hook because Peter Pan was never this crazy, but all the authors were always lazy because my brain is in absolute chaos and my brain has never said "whatever you say, boss" because it does things without me telling and I'm not sure I've ever tried rebelling.
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