the realist.

it's been years. here's to you--Amber Reed and James Cummings.

\\the realist.

sometimes i'm winning,
sometimes i have luck;
and sometimes i can't quite explain why things suck.

i usually don't mind it,
and i don't let it get me;
but then i sit still and end up writing a ditty.

about what i'm not sure,
and for what reason who knows;
its just a feeling i get from my head to my toes.

its when things are exciting,
and your hopes are quite high;
but deep down you wait 'till they fall from the sky.

it only goes so well,
and plans only so fun;
you keep standards low until you have almost none.

that way you don't falter,
and there's no disappointment;
sometimes a dose of reality can be the best ointment.

it will rain on the parade,
a goose will poop on the pier;
your bubble will pop, but have no fear--

you can't lose your hope,
since it's nothing you had;
you actually win instead of ending up sad.

that way you called it,
you already knew;
you do win for losing and it's satisfying, too.

you can't be let down,
since you were already there;
delays and cancellations--you haven't a care.

it's easier you see,
to expect the worst;
you don't have those pesky frustrations or hurts.

the plans fell through,
and the band is off beat;
then a ferret walks on by and pees on your feet.

no worries here,
i didn't expect a nice night;
but i can smile and relax because all along i was right.

then when things are fun,
and life seems just grand;
i'm even more grateful since it never was planned.