I'm bored.nI think I’ll start a revolutionnIf I can get up off the couch, and into the streetnI'll throw a brick through the window of a coffee shopnAnd cause a scene in the middle of a parking lotnI’ll Kick and punch and screamnStart letting off some steamnOr just yell at my TV.nnBut the sad truth isnI don't carenEnough to leave my bednI can never sing the perfect wordsnThey get stuck inside my headnnOn the tip of my tonguenI can never say the right wordsnSo I put them in songnBut I’m no closer to getting my point acrossnI can't articulate myselfnAs well as I would likenAfter years of practicenI've found out that I may as well just trynnIn hopes one day InMight write that perfect ending linenOf poetry to set me freenFrom the confines of realitynThis broken record that I tend to be