I fly over Nova Scotia, I swim the ocean blue I land in New Orleans and eat Poe Boy or two I am not the person people expect me to be I'm not warm, I'm not over and I am not in between I'm living in my car now, I sold all my stuff Not because I needed money, because I had too much I'm writing this in a notebook, that no one will ever read So why am I still pretending I'm who they'd think I'd be? I am in between the margins, these words are just me clothes That I wear to cover up, what I want no one to know Jungle-green, magenta, and underwater-blue I love every single color, Teardrops + Balloons