i need to find a way to make my keep
these days are getting me down, and i've
got myself in, way wayy too deep.
I see all the people and places and ways to be
why i find it so hard to pick a spot, and fill a vocation, these nights are tired eyes and ancient sighs, as my feet tread heavy, and my heart hangs high.
i need to find a lover to hold my feet
down to the earth, as it shows a new road below the sky, i see the dove so simple and lovely, as it says to me, peace, and i wait in turn, for the turning of leaves one more time, and i try to see that new road ahead clean and clear, not knowing how to get there, or where it might belong. until i'm there, i've got work to do, digging trenches, and making my way through mud that i've had clung to my bootstraps for too too long, and its not pretty. and i hate that its not pretty, and i hate that i'm not perfect, and i know that i am what i am, it is what it is, nothing more, nothing less.
too many times the trenches have been abandoned for better thoughts, and fantasy and that instantaneous luxury that can't be afforded.
facing the present, and facing the past is like trying to look the devil in the eyes. sometimes its the devil, and other times its nothing but a little thing, but all you see the devil, and that's just not going to be good enough anymore. self talk is self talk is self talk. yea.
these days are getting me down, and i've
got myself in, way wayy too deep.
I see all the people and places and ways to be
why i find it so hard to pick a spot, and fill a vocation, these nights are tired eyes and ancient sighs, as my feet tread heavy, and my heart hangs high.
i need to find a lover to hold my feet
down to the earth, as it shows a new road below the sky, i see the dove so simple and lovely, as it says to me, peace, and i wait in turn, for the turning of leaves one more time, and i try to see that new road ahead clean and clear, not knowing how to get there, or where it might belong. until i'm there, i've got work to do, digging trenches, and making my way through mud that i've had clung to my bootstraps for too too long, and its not pretty. and i hate that its not pretty, and i hate that i'm not perfect, and i know that i am what i am, it is what it is, nothing more, nothing less.
too many times the trenches have been abandoned for better thoughts, and fantasy and that instantaneous luxury that can't be afforded.
facing the present, and facing the past is like trying to look the devil in the eyes. sometimes its the devil, and other times its nothing but a little thing, but all you see the devil, and that's just not going to be good enough anymore. self talk is self talk is self talk. yea.

VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
know how the blues can go dear that i really do.
<3