My head is spinning in rounds, At every idea of you. I am feeling a little bound; Like were stuck together like glue.
Thrown together in a heap. Lacks our notion or consent. Stuck here having no place to leap, To avoid all this discontent.
What am I supposed to do? Now, to free myself from you. I could just drive on through, Or sit and wait while I stew.
I could try and play it cool; But would I lie like a fool. No one would like that point of view. Oh what am I supposed to do?
written by Evelyn Creon
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