The thing is I have slow hands and a fast heart.

However, I truly do my best to try to play my stupid part.

Problem is, the play I’ve been cast in is a horrible work of art.

Worse than that is this role I’ve been cast in ain’t nothing but ah la carte.

I was born an emotional storm that was built to perform.

In regards to what’s normal I’ve always trouble trying to conform.

Yet here I’ve been cast as nothing but bloody scenery.

What I want to do is explain to every one what little they have seen of me.

The thing is my rough edges refuse to conform.

And the result is I’m left the way wrong shade of bloody greenery.

The thing is I was born with a fast heart.

Slow to judge and fast to fondness.

What I want is perfect politeness, a truly lost art.

It’s one of the deepest cuts, heavily ingrained in my subconscious.

The thing is I don’t want to be fake or run my life like a scam.

My heart beats different in order to design a more artful electrocardiogram.

The thing is I have slow hands.

In all things social I’m not very skilful.

In fact, the moments most find awkward I find very blissful.

The thing is I love Italian food and sweet Chilean wine and to be honest that’s probably why my sugars are giving me problems all the time.