Immature

In the storm of solitude,
My one reliant friend that makes the heart beat faster then slows it to a calm again,
I find some things of wonder that open up the doors,
A few more notes of laughter that bring some colour to these tired pores.
Now everything I wanted seems so immature,
All the time I wasted shines like gold.
Through my fits of laughter I try to make amends for wicked thoughts I've had time and again.
And promise that hereafter I'll no longer be a slave to greed and lust I'll make my dreams behave,
Cos you'd be so disappointed if you knew those fickle words that were falling from my mouth to be heard.
Now everything I wanted seems so ...
And it hurts to be so young, to be so misunderstood, feeling all the bad take over the good.
Now everything I wanted seems so ...
And now I feel so ordinary.