Alone in the atmosphere
holding on to polluted ways
letting go of past inhibitions
floating over you from astronomical heights.
You thought I fit in this box
you were convinced of my perfect mold.
I am left to stand up here,
then face what my future brings.
I wish to fall
thousands and thousands down
spread my dreams on your suburban driveway
shock the hell out of your little party.
Maybe I will awaken
remove the lawn gnome from my chest
flash you a winning smile
and walk away from that cull de sac.
I hold a little hope
in the useless pocket of these jeans
that maybe one day you will understand
that the future means shit to me.