I can never find the words to say what I need to say,
My tongue has betrayed me.
Robbed of the man I am, by my own two hands,
Desire will slay me.
These wanting eyes have trained me.
Late at night as the ceiling spins and this feeling wins,
the spirits are speaking.
And this poor heart of mine is brought in for the reaping,
to the sound of the widow’s weeping.
This old man’s a stubborn fool, never kept his cool,
Why was he invited?
Oh, but he sure does look delighted.
There’s a little bit of him in me and me in him,
I cannot hide it. Though I fight it,
All consciousness begins to fade.
Because He lets me question why as if just to say,
“I’m that feeling in your gut that you never could explain.
And now you understand to know love, you must first know pain.”
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