so, tell me, what are my words worth?

can they build castles like they told me as they a child?

or are they nothing, simple letters on a page

idle talk that falls out of careless mouths

meaningless as i twist them and form them

into the lies that you tell me they are

and perhaps they are, but i don't intend them to be

they're the world as i see them through my own eyes

and you can't blame me, you know?

i've grown accustomed to the rose-colored glasses you glued on my face