The chronicles of a bohemian teenage (part two)

I think I've been here before,
Only now not at the cellar,
I am lying on the sunrooms floor,
And contemplating why that if im so damn tired and so out of pocket,
Do I turn every conversation and every contemplation I make,
Into a self pity trip.

I said that I would ride a wagon right out of this town,
To find the confidence and hope,
That I lost back in 2005,
But did I?
Would there be a second chapter,
If they didnt leave the death star alive?
And did I, and did I

I want to be something that's of worth, you see?
And I want to fly like a kite in the sky.
You don't need a degree, to deconstruct this melody,
But this one's not for you.

If 'A song for' was,
My justification for the introspective writings I make,
Then this is the most that anyone will ever hear about my personal life,
Then why?
As the apology I owe you is as public as the stars in the sky,
"if I, if I..."

I want to be something that's of worth, you see?
And I want to fly like a kite in the sky.
You don't need a degree, to deconstruct this melody,
But this ones not for you.