I think even as a billionaire,
or even as a homeless man
or as just the way I am,
I’d still realize the reality of
the actual value of a dollar being
nothing at all.
And even in a fight,
even if I’m
right,
even if he hated me just because of who I am-
if it came down to it- I’d still help that man.
And sadly
even when in love
or with someone loving me,
I’m never blinded
although I know…
I oughtta be
With my feet on the ground,
I’ve only tried to fly
when the breeze was just
right.
And I don’t know if that makes me a realist,
or anything special,
or one who’s seen the light…
All I know is I’d rather cry
when my money’s all been spent,
and have a blood that’s boiled high
until I
have to vent,
and maybe feel I wanna die
wondering
where my love has went…
But whether low or whether high,
I somehow stay content.
Not what I want, just the way
I always sorta am
no matter how I try to fly
or try to understand.