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Description
I have noticed I can't stop rhyming
And what I hate is its timing.
I rhyme at the oddest of places
Probably because I keep seeing traces.
Traces of my long lost past

The past of when my sail had no mast.
The days before my dream came true
The days when everything seemed to be blue.
The days of a reckless teenager
When I always seemed to be in danger.

I remember writing and fantasizing
And how I could never stop dreaming.
So as I walk down these streets
I start to set a beat.
Then I let out a rhyme
But it happens at an odd time.

So people turn and stare
And I try not to glare.
It's not my fault I can't stop
I never like to stop on the spot.
Not when I have a good rhyme going.

So I keep on rhyming
And it shall never have good timing.
Since I'm rhyming all the time...

Description
I have noticed I can't stop rhyming
And what I hate is its timing.
I rhyme at the oddest of places
Probably because I keep seeing traces.
Traces of my long lost past

The past of when my sail had no mast.
The days before my dream came true
The days when everything seemed to be blue.
The days of a reckless teenager
When I always seemed to be in danger.

I remember writing and fantasizing
And how I could never stop dreaming.
So as I walk down these streets
I start to set a beat.
Then I let out a rhyme
But it happens at an odd time.

So people turn and stare
And I try not to glare.
It's not my fault I can't stop
I never like to stop on the spot.
Not when I have a good rhyme going.

So I keep on rhyming
And it shall never have good timing.
Since I'm rhyming all the time...