Mad town, a mad season, mad about you,
Searching past gray skies to find all the blue,
Anxious to start but with nothing to do,
That's how I feel; he's not here.
Itching a scratch that refusing to fade,
Perfecting my art, and forgetting the grade,
Longing for sunshine, I've lived in the shade,
That's how I feel; he's not here.
Drumming his name with each heartbeat and step,
Breathing his scent with my raggedy breath,
Aching to hold him, his weight and his breadth,
That's how I feel; he's not here.
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