A Talk With The Afternoon
incurable scar is a thorn studded in my heartthat I cannot get outdiscontinuation of conversation that I cannot escapeI'm a cripple who lost his balancethe blinding sunshine of the afternoon looks at meand tells me quietly"you and I don't go well togetheryou and I can't be together"
thinking every day a dozen, no hundreds of times
"everything seems to exist so they can be finished"
cleansing of greed that I cannot accomplishrepost of soul that I cannot haveloosing the wings after a vicious battlethe little bird that has fallen
Each day thinks a dozen, no, hundreds of times.
"everything seems to exist so they can be finished"
'cause I have got no place to goand no place to hide no will to fight.