birthday boy
february eleven
i think about it, i picture myself calling you
and having a chat and us updating each other about all that has been going on
and then i stop, cause i'm not sure there is a purpose in doing that
i don't know if the feelings are real feelings
or just ghosts who like to come out and play
i know the spell has been broken
i wonder if you need me, because i fear that your great mind is lonely
and sometimes actually i wonder if i made up your great mind
if maybe i wished you better than you were
i dreamed you up so big there is only my own mind to keep this story of you alive
and maybe it's time to just close the book, and put it away
maybe even donate it
i go round and round about it in my mind but mainly the difference is that
i never wish you happy birthday anymore