It's not always about the rock

it feels forced today,
nothing can flow, nothing can be made,
the trees all seem to be swinging
incorrectly
not to my desire
i don't want to answer my phone,
or salute the dirty bastards walking down the street
i want to spend the day in my head,
which makes it hard when you have so much
around you to interact with
maybe that's how people lose it?
by spending too much time in their heads,
and not taking part in whats constantly changing
and moving, and growing and once a upon a timing
maybe i should of fought harder?
made my voice heard a little louder?
maybe i should of wrote something?
or sent someone something?
or just done something!
no.
you can't beat yourself up for the things
that washed down the street into the pile
just make sure i remember this part
make it a part of you
to remember this part.