dezhope

The problem is all inside your head

She said to me.

The answer is easy if you take it logically

Id like to help you in your struggle to be free

These words repeated in my head so perfectly.

Staring at the wall

At my desk

In a ball. Always a mess

Afterall, I confessed before

Why again must I press

Down?

So damn hard on my chest.

I just want to lay down.

Apart from the stress

But Im at work

And nothing is left

But to sell my heart on this internet.

I start to get into it.

But my boss passes by and asks me

about a fed ex

package

And wonders if I sent it yet

I said yes

And cried inside

A grown man in flip flops

Trying to hide

A swallowed pride, chapped lips

And Tired feet that smell FUNKE.

9 to 6, 5 days out of the week

Is somethingLike heartbeats pumping

Drums thumping, people running,

Racing to the weekend, always seeking beacons of hope,

Begging D.J.s they believe in

To supply the dope. Cause Dez always Hope.

Hanging from ropes, dangling like reminder notes.

And just when I forget

Its 6 oclock and Im outside the box