Who says I can not be free, when nobody ever listens to me,
not the big man living up above, look forwards to the nights of faking love,
but who says I should not take time, when lately that is all that is truly mine.
Who says love strikes twice, and every time it seems so nice,
my love move can not seem to be directed, since I am still waiting for my least expected, it has been caged like sick dying bireds, who sadly found out actions kill slower than words.
Who says she was not my godsend, friends may finish with over but never does it mean ends,
who says I should learn what to say, college usually creates futre but it took mine away,
who says I should not keep to myself, all alone, when the only thing time seems to help, is the tools slowly chipping away at the stone.