I don't know. Maybe you can figure it out. Why I had the dreams of going to a prison broadly labeled Oakland. Maybe you can decipher the hidden message in my drawing. Skulls lingering over mountains. A road leading up to and through those mountains. Clouds looming overhead.  Maybe you'll be the one that reads into the actual meaning. Cause I don't understand a damn thing. Maybe I am trapped here in this arguable paradise. Hotel California. I want to throw my arms. Kick away my legs. Fight everything I see. Push and pull at the same time. I've taken all the eyes off of me. Now what? What happens next. A woman told me once, "no matter how badly we may want something, some things aren't meant to be.." So maybe it's not meant to be. As Colin Frangicetto sings to me, "...wake up, wake up. You're living in a dream." So maybe I've missed the meaning. It seems I've missed everything else. All of the EPIC parties. All of the fantasies and wonders of being young. As Colin sings "...four walls are falling down. Your walls are coming down. And it's not your fault." Have I not been singing about walls? As Colin sings "...I meant a girl named Samantha and she put my brain in a frying pan." Whatever Colin. Just like history repeats itself, I've been completing the patterns and solving the puzzles on my own. I thought I wanted to be alone. I thought I wanted to be a rockstar. I thought I wanted to feel warmth in the belly of winter. I thought wrong again. I thought wrong again. Always wrong again. When is it my time to be right? Twenty-one. Nothing to show.

Only things to gain