It is easier [for me]
To say it isn’t in the books for me to find
A savior to fit the finest form
Of all my varying needs.
It is easier [for me]
To see a tree and think of seeds
And sun and rain
And time
And not to think of a snap
Of two fingers
And a magical beginning.
It is easier [for me]
To fall asleep, asking myself
For strength I can’t seem to find inside
Than talking to an obscure illusion
That’s really only air.
It is easier [for me]
To doubt, to question, to search, to guess
To make believe I understand
The ways in which I’m never meant to understand
Than to sit back
And listen to words that do not belong to me.
Jan 16, 2010
Jan 16, 2010 at 5:52 PM UTC
It is easier [for me]
To say it isn’t in the books for me to find
A savior to fit the finest form
Of all my varying needs.
It is easier [for me]
To see a tree and think of seeds
And sun and rain
And time
And not to think of a snap
Of two fingers
And a magical beginning.
It is easier [for me]
To fall asleep, asking myself
For strength I can’t seem to find inside
Than talking to an obscure illusion
That’s really only air.
It is easier [for me]
To doubt, to question, to search, to guess
To make believe I understand
The ways in which I’m never meant to understand
Than to sit back
And listen to words that do not belong to me.