Anxiety, society, calamity
No fancier than a commodity

Anxious, pretentious
Attention!
I’m making calculations
About a future I don’t know
But I expect, and I can’t wait

He said. I sat
To listen and learn,
But sir! The pain!

I’m not a product and she’s worth more than jewelry
She’s not made for me
Just the fake one, and I can’t wait for the real thing
No fancier than a commodity

Anxiety, desire, vulnerability.
I know I’m not an Adam, and I don’t want to be
I just want to kiss her

On New Year’s Eve

And so I did.
The future is now past
What a funny thing.
So little time for a day that can forever last

I sure hope it does.
But that’s not only mine to decide
Not even Eve could predict the end of paradise

And I know I’m hyperbolic
But it’s fun sometimes
To pretend that these chaotic little moments
Can be arranged to shine

Cautious, preposterous,
Can you even listen to the angelic chorus?
You better not
It’s better to follow our own notes