Frames

I've pretty much gotten my ass kicked like every single day
since the moment I thought of the great idea to move out to LA.

"Just so close" and "Not this time" always echo through my brain;
The looping thoughts I think here would make anyone insane.

I picture the life I wanted and this is nowhere close.
The plan was to take this stupid place by storm and then to go.

It's hard for me to care because it doesn't make a dif
Whether I get a speaking part or just a walk on bit.

I'm not fighting to find a frame for my freckled face to squeeze in
to redeem some greater ghost or justify some obtuse reason.

I'd rather spend my quiet time alone in my own home
with my dirty hair unseen and my history unknown.