10 September 2012
My mind is not, on it's own, what you might call stable. I'm not the most discerning judge of which is fact or fable.
I can't seem to evaluate a balanced risk/reward, Nor can I prioritize threats to me moving forward.
So when you lay it out for me in simple white and black, That message is a siren's song that keeps me coming back.
That message is a structure for which I badly yearn. It's a home I never had, the flame in which I burn.
And as they age, homes collect some oddballs in the attic. That is where I settle in, the cloister of fanatics.
So where you lead, we will follow, and never do we mind That when there's danger, we're in front as you push from behind.
I Will Follow • Opuss № I