To who this may concern:
I'm here sitting on the fifth floor and it's 'cause I think I want to learn.
It's that, or I'm being lied on.
Like I'm getting choked by a python, I can't breathe if I can't write songs.
And I'm up in here trying to get my degree.
But have nightmares thinking this place just isn't for me.
Really I just want to see my future and my path.
I'm chasing after my dreams. Since when did they get so fast.
I'm sitting here in the Caf, breakfast and lunch: alone.
I'm supposed to be eating right.
But fruit loops and ice cream cones ain't the definition of "right".
I mean correct. Went to college five hours from my set. I don't know what to rep.
Or who to run with. I mean there's people I have fun with.
And though I love them, I doubt there's someone here for me to fall in love with.
And it's hard to think romance when everybody says you're only a man if you "get it in".
And I'm back on the fifth floor without a plan on this college trip.
I could mess around and lose my scholarship.
And that's crazy when all my hallmates get high as the voice of Mariah Carey.
No need for commentary.
(First you get a swimming pool full of liquor. Then you dive in it.)
I don't smoke or drink.
(Hand me the Drano. I might die in it.)
And it's hard to make friends when you're straight-edge.
And everybody gets "white girl wasted". Let's face it.
Just breathe. (Breathe)
Plus I hate when everyone says I'm the bees-knees [business].
But they won't tell a friend.
But they're going to tweet about it when they hear I'm celibate.
And that brings about the question: Where's your heart at?
I'm looking for a sign, but I hit the hard cap.
And that's the reason I started these letters from the fifth floor.