Mad in a way but I don’t say,
It’s what you’re used to.
I got the words but can’t convey.
I know you’ll turn it all around,
Cause that’s the rhythms that you go through
Get it back and you’re not obliged to say,
Not intact but you’re better off anyway.
Somehow it’s never up to me.
What if I would say?
Simple words I can’t relate.
I don’t place upon your view,
It’s the rhythms that you go through.
