. . .Slow

i'm not tired; i'm only slow
i'm not depressed, my countenance is just a lil low
a lil lower than the usual
the fire of desire burns at moments when its crucial
adrenaline wont pump till the consequences seem brutal
i'm listening to kelly's hear me as against rihanna's rude girl
it hurts at times when you stop and stare
when you wonder wether or not youre actually getting there
wondering whether or not there really is a place called there
or if there is a state of mind...somewhere up in your hair
there's two cans of juice extractable from fear
and at the moment my glass tastes like that of despair
cos the lake of fuel and fire and optimism isnt crystal clear
not anymore...the end seems near
someday; somehow; someplace; some town
i hope to get there, but there's no hurry
not at the moment, now i'm on cruise control
i'm not chuddy k...but it's slow slow!