the pitiful plea2004-05-08 | 6:08 p.m. (Dear God,) It�s getting lonely, as you can see From my wishful thinking of who is to be And I don�t know why I always mean That horrid expression: it�s not you, It�s me. Why I�m never what they want me to be Why I pilfer my land and refuse to leave Why I never hear and they never see Why I�m drowning in my own false iniquities Why the boys around me seem so far away Like I could reach, and not touch them for days I�m a spinning fountain of burning ash Blinding who looks and who ventures to pass Like a failing cycle or runaway whore I was fashioned for something decidedly more I�m always fighting till I barely can stand Too tired to wash the blood off my hands Before these words meanings are lost in the dust Of a heart barely beating and spoiled by lust The point I�m stressing is hardly a must And nothing compared to your infinite just It�s just getting a bit lonely� and now I can see The hand of my quandary points squarely at me Faithfully yours, The pitiful plea |
synergy |