Poem on a whim after an awkward day.

What can I do, who should I be,
all the songs are off-color and the colors off-key.
When the best is given, but it always falls short
because the strategies behind it were developed at four
years old, it doesn't fit.  Life's for masochists
or for those who don't mind that they're living by lists
and just fall into events then imagined they're planned
while I watch them act out like they're all out of sand
in their hourglass, how can I live like I'm free
when I'm conscious of the chains that are strangling me?
And my actions are wrong, I'm a flash then I'm gone,
I'm an actor on acid, gotta head full of gong.
And my perceptions are reality, as much as yours
and the sweat from my stress also comes out of pores
and the things that I want should be just as legit
yet my brain is too busy sifting through all the shit
that I see, flying by, I wanna give you a try
but I see that your mind is distracted and why
shouldn't it be, your colors also also off-key?
Could it be that your analysis is just as deep?
Only better since it doesn't pull you over the rack,
and you succeed at dismissing all extraneous crap?
Well let me tell you something that you won't hear much.
Pat yourself on the back because you're living in touch.