familiarity breeds contempt
I could write the book
just call me a human tennis ball
I could take credit for bringing these beautiful people together
But that would only make me responsible
To be the one to make everything right.
I sit in hours of isolation
empty mind racing
Trying to clear it out just that little bit more.
Great wars have been fought in the time we have not made contact
And it still feels like yesterday
Try and tell me tomorrow is too late
No use pretending
I will use everything within me to make things right again.
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