Overheated
Can I also make mistakes?
Can I also fail and regret at the things I chose wrong?
Can I also express for myself 's sake?
Can I also take the road of my song?
When the bee was young, and a buzzin' bit,
Gets too excited to fly around, choose a nectar to sip
The sun says "Nah-ah, you might be smart, but not too strong,
Choose a gentler flower, and you'll never go wrong."
When the river ran wild, too eager to reach the sea,
The banks guide the water, for it not to flood the field,
The rocks and the mud, all hardened to guard,
So just the river flows directly to where it should be.
Now there is this man, no longer a child,
Wonders and wanders in the middle of his wild,
Why can't be things choose and lead his own path,
And let be experience his unforeseen wrath.
How can a bee create a wine,
If the sun is always upon him, speaking and whine?
And as far as we all know,
River waters flood the field, so grains may grow.
So this young man, though isn't a child,
Acts and thinks his decisions are not heeded,
Too many dictates, his choices a-piled,
Why, like a bright incandescent, but gone overheated.
