Exception To The Rule

21 Jan

No more conversations
No more impersonations of me
Or the ‘me’ I wanted to be

I’m not that bad, I assure you
I just want to do what I want to
I’m just a wretch who’s afraid to be free

But I make you laugh, remember
I’m a lot like a warm December
All of those days it was meant to rain,
And wash me gently

Little black marks on the soul of a fool?
Patterns of misery, dyed in the wool?
A casual failure to always be cool?
A terminal taste for the loser’s school?
I just want to be the exception to the rule

Forget the big dreams of bright lights
Just got to find how to sleep through the nights
Trapped in my crumbling youth

In my pocket I know you will find
The product of my overactive mind
Without a diet of truth

© 1996-2010 brent david fraser, all rights reserved

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