Everything is Something.

Hang on a sec,
Let me sit on my ass little longer.
I'll just hang out while you sit on yours.
I'm not a wreck.
I've realized I'm not becoming much stronger.
Because though I feel rain, it doesn't really pour.

Usually I watch from the light of day.
I look on as the lightning cracks from above you.
From my umbrella to your cloud of gray.
I'll step into your storm because I love you.

In the end though, it's your storm, not mine.
What am I saying? I don't know the end, it's not time.
I don't know anything, cause right now I'm fine.
In the end though, I know everything will shine.

What scares me is you guys. I feel for you the most.
How can I live my life when so many of you are toast?
But that's just it. I have problems too.
Most of them are minor, some of them are you.

But I still feel young. I'm still inexperienced.
I still haven't found the balance I need.
I know that I've changed. Nobody could deny it.
But change isn't always growth, so I don't know.

Why can't I land in the middle somewhere?
Why do everyone's perspectives always vary?
Why am I so overloaded by this nothing?
Is it just the fact that I really do care?
Or that I'm a fool for finding the unknown scary?
Or maybe it's that there's actually something.
Maybe I'm climbing a big flight of wooden stairs,
Some steps rotting out, and some made of fine cherry.
Maybe when I reach the top it'll be taken from me there.
A burden that I'll no longer ave to carry.
Which will be replaced by another mysterious something.

The will always be another stairwell.
There is always an upper story.
And until I give life a farewell,
I guess I'll be writing this story.