I walk into the rhythm of a mess Tales strewn around with no bloody care. Too many voices tugging at my heart. The mess-y tales are lost with their details All that's left are inconclusive conclusions. Why is this here? Where is what? And then your voice - throw things away clear the clutter. Don't give me credit but like you I have a heart. Forget what tugs me, think of what tugs you. Now do what you ask me to do.