They said inspiration hits you like a ton of bricks
No it doesn't it hits you like a soft kiss!
Like a warm mist
It's like a clenched fist...supporting the small of your back
Like Advil after a heart attack
Like how I feel after the long way back
Like I emptied the bricks and now all I have is the sack
Like the mortar is dry
Like a cry
but from being too happy
from being to antsy to live
and to breath to leave these winter soaked things
for wings covered in the butter of summer
For the high pants on a plumber
The long dreams in a sound slumber
The thoughts no longer necessary to lumber around in your subconscious
so it's finally summer