Tidy Little Boxes

Everything in tidy little boxes
All of my memories are pigeon holed
One section left vacant for all the dreams
A  million for the dreams that they stole

All the boxes with perfect right angles
Protractor now set to ninety degrees
With such rigid habits I wont survive
Please will you come and make a mess of me

Everything in tidy little boxes
While your dreams remain scattered on the floor
It's best that way, mine are hidden away
And stay so very easily ignored

All the boxes are stacked up together
So high one day they will surely fall down
Either that or they will be stacked so high
They'll encompass, suffocate and surround

Everything in tidy little boxes
You will not box my personality
Multi faceted, three dimensional
Remains the only similarity

All the boxes throughout all of our lives
Restrict our movement, so what irony
The box in which they will lower us down
Is when we will finally be set free