Out Of My Book
We sat by ourselves, still looking for company;There could have been peace, but that eluded me -All I could think of was what was on my mind.You tried to be kind,But I blocked your feelings.Now, senses still reeling, you sit in your quiet room and cry.You tried to make me one,But I always hide when there's a glimpse of sun.
Running along in sunlight meadows,Your eyes were never more than half-closed:Through fluttering lashes, you watched me watching you.I tried to be trueTo the way that you thought I ought to beBut, in spite of all my efforts,I failed.I tried to make you seeBut your eyes are blind to all but the bad in me.
What do you think I meanWhen I say that I need you?How am I supposed to seemWhen we hit another problemAnd the answers are all torn from my book?
Our lives are on paths we just can't control;We can grow closer as we get old.Can you imagine us as we adjust?Can you imagine usGetting near eighty;We live more sedately,Still hoping the dreams will come true?We'll try to be secure.
But I'm of uncertain mindAnd how can I be sure?How can I be sure?