Look, a bump on the road.
There seems to be another.
Recently, these bumps have made me smother.
Making me feel like some other, person.
Oh how I'd rather go back to a time of another.
Back to that summer.
A time when I was tougher, and not so glutter.
Back to a time where I'd loved her.
To a time with color.
A time where these bumps weren't made by my own clutter and smothered mind.