It seems to be the week for getting lost
Putting on a cheery countenance
Making it so no one knows how it goes
They don't seem to want to understand
So don't show anyone an open hand
Find a place to hide that is very, very good
How do they always know just where to look
Looking to find a better place, leave no trace
Cover my tracks, be very quiet, no looking back
There will come a time when they will rue the day
So for now let them have their way, ignore them
I will keep it all in me, hidden so they can’t see
Some day soon, the boogieman will come for them
Then we will see who rules the day, not them, just me
The boogieman is my best friend, so be nice to me
Or it will be you who is getting lost, not me, no not me
©Saroya Poirier 2008
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