Uphill, downhill, driving on fumes. No thrill behind this wheel, I'd hate to be you. Someday, in the rear view mirror, we'll both say the other should steer. What I mean is there's always more than one way; just to make myself clear. Passive aggression is a detour from love and affection. I hope someday, our road will reappear. My trepidation, your frustration, what are we to do? If it's any consolation, I'd hate to be you.
Hot, cold, watch my self-deprecation unfold as it's mistaken for manipulation but I'm sold on any proclamation of emancipation you decide to uphold. Last thing you need is a spoonful of rhetoric and let truth be told that my words are nothing but esoteric. I think, you read between the lines even when those lines are half-truths. And what I mean is never mind, I'd hate to be you.
Where has the conviction gone? Mumbled whispers like I love you should be loud not burdensome. This road is bumpy and rarely traveled on. Someday soon, we'll be counting days and there won't be none. Breathing isn't living. Sometimes when we're seething, we're unforgiving and I begin to think that we are done. But those fumes keep us carrying on.
When our pride happens to cross paths, what are we to do? I don't mean to be ambiguous nor my words inconspicuous. Never mind, I''d hate to be you.
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