Evening sky
and lonesome monkey

I was five and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Bang Bang- Nancy Sinatra

Control

I have been told i think too much.
Its all in a circle.
Probably.
Maybe.

In too much control.
Confusion.
Not good.