Here in Lost Angeles,
I lost a bitterness.
Found it slowly swimming in my blood headed upstream.

It held a confidence,
Determined weightiness.
Whipping my flimsy heart wherever it so pleased.

It doesn’t rain here.
I’m prepared for anger.
Things shouldn’t feel so breezy or so clean.

You can’t begin to guess
At the amount of uselessness
I heard from the noise of my worrying.

I hold a crystal ball in the palm of my hands.
It sees whatever I ask it to see.
I wanna watch myself slamming it against the wall.
Tell me “dreams are only meant for those who sleep. Wake up.”

I’m lacking common sense,
Shadows on her loveliness,
Trying to lose that hatred I hold for my own dreams.

Cradling a restlessness,
Ever-unstable absence.
My thoughts are hardly ever near the turf that grounds my feet.

Let’s move to Venice.
Let’s climb the pyramids.
As long as I’m somewhere else I’ll never have to be what I have to be.

And that’s a problem.
Pleasantly lit prison.
The future’s so bright it starts to get blinding.

I hold a deck of cards; each one is a new start.
Burn them all; let the flames graze my face.
I wanna be where I am; I wanna connect with the land.
There can only ever be one time and place.

So in Los Angeles,
I saw my selfishness.
Millions of hearts all left beating as one.

And I shot my bitterness.
I found a wholesomeness.
In forgetting where I’m going or where I’m from.

Roasted at the stake, a martyr to myself.
I hope it shows that part of me has died.
If patience is a virtue, then I’m a man of wealth,
But it’s time to give confidence a try. So step aside.