my memories of yesteryear are floating in the air

let the chips fall were they may

those damn chips are not falling in the right place

the chips are damaged, the memories refrained

until my end, the air will hold our will

that feeling of happiness that can be everywhere

really, really is

yet my eyes stay open beyond hours

my mind racing through time and space

no one, ever, ever thought i'd get this far

and personally, i had rather not

understanding misunderstandings

making sense of this "world" around me

fixing unbroken things, and breaking ice

and an endless indulgence of slow poison

nothing fulfilling, everything's sour

yet my mind is knowing, really,

contradictions and imperfections

are my natural enemy

why do people say i'm shooting my own foot?