Streams of Consciousness

A flood of thoughts I find myself thinking them over Rather religiously They get caught up in the flood sometimes And spill out without a warning sign And it all rains down in piles Like an ocean brought to life And since when is being sober Just not worth our time? We're putting in the miles Without a statement to return with And we're practicing the lies In which we'll tell to blur the line Between intuition and confusion Are we making forward progress To a proper state of mind? I feel as though we're backtracking Is this our warning sign? And it all rains down in piles