Men Are Mental
I dreamt you were telling me a story
About how you ran into yourself again while in the neighborhood
I asked if you asked how you were, you did
You said, that you said, the boy isn’t good
You said, that you said, these people mess him up more than they should
You said, that you said, it would make him sprint up the hill at night
And when he got to the top he would make himself cry
But that losing his breath made him feel alive
You shook your head and smirked, at the conversation you had with yourself
Like it’s normal to see him on the street and you’d been wondering how he felt
Like he’s an old friend and it’s good to catch up
As if everyone should know, you have two selves
And I’m foolish to forget that the other you dwells
That the other you is lost
That the you that matters has it together, while the other you does not
