A seemingly nice morning,
Moving through mundane chores and so forth
You enter my mind
It is as if it all comes to a screeching holt.
I understand very little of what it is that perplexes my soul so.
Hurts and all that stuff that makes your day change.
Enjoying my favorite radio station,
Jamming with the artists and the tunes,
Feeling great and reminiscing about younger days
When those tunes were the first time played.
Then, it all changes
Because it takes me back to a torment of time
Hurts and all stuff like that.
Why must the best of days be chased away with the worries of tomorrow,
Have I not re-arranged my feeling so much, already?
I have gave up some of the best times
For the haunting presence of the worst of my life
For all those hurts and all that stuff that makes us or breaks us.