I wrote a novel about it
Grammatically it’s full of holes
My specialty has never been
Knowing where them commas go
I made a promise about it
You’d think by now I would have learned
That page and pen and good intent
Don’t represent a corner turned
I should know better than I do
And I would if I could
If I had the will to want to
But I already know this well
And yet I remain it still
I’m so frightened of failure
That I’m scared to even begin
That ironies not lost on me
I just refuse to let it sink in
I’m a creature of habit
Cotton comfort sun and cold
Leave me outside when rivers high
Eventually I’ll turn to stone
I should know better than I do
And I would if I could
If I had the will to want to
But I already know this well
And yet I remain it still
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