I'm upbeat.
Mostly.
Almost entirely.
I'd scarcely be sad
out of true deception,
rose unexpectedly.
You see,
the Sun keeps coming back to me,
telling me he's mine.
I'm aware that he's yours too.
And that don't interfere with my share.
My share, not my stash.
We can all get the Sun.
Don't get to the Sun, bro.
Don't try to take hold of it,
for it will burn you to the ashes,
to not even ashes.
The Sun is entirely ours.
Not yours purely.
Not solely mine.
The Sun is secretly
matter of smile.
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