Seven times we've been down with nothing left to say.
You're too obtuse for me to let it loose, before your grand display.
Tongue-tied again, conversation spins in a meandering kind of way.
Positions shift, predictions went exactly as I expect.
I pull it back again
and I won't let it go.
I won't let it go again.
Should I be a perfect enemy and just stay away?
Intellectual territories that I could never relay.
I see you working for a grasp at something
struggling to make headway.
In an ocean of words, I'd hate to see you hurt,
but my pride gets in the way.