I don't feel much like giving way to tears.
Though I have some good reasons for to cry.
They'd all evaporate and disappear,
leaving my face etched with worried lines

So I'll keep them inside
I'll shut my red and weary eyes
until my heart collapses from the pain
Or until all this passes
this feeling of sheer hopelessness
is somehow sweetly transformed into grace.....

Allowing me to love for all my days

In the night I miss your company
And now I feel more lonesome than before
before I heard your random voice so sweet
sounding so sincere, bright, and what's more.....

I know you are an angel
the way you cleverly fool me
to thinking I'm in danger
of falling in love possibly
The heart is without reason,
desirous of what it needs.
And in some blessed season,
perhaps even a girl unseen.

I was under the impression there was nothing to life except waiting to die
So I figured what the hey, since I can't get away, why not get high?
Everyday I escaped to my own little place where I'd simply try
to get  my way like some renegade and enjoy the ride

I'm sitting in my chambers,  burning midnight oil, and I'm starting to cry
For no matter how closely I study the law, I cannot comply
with its lofty demands and it's moral stance in its holy might
On the losing end of battling sin, I am never right

I am so reclusive, full of excuses for why I must hide
The tide has set in,  fear has crept in, won't subside
I know the struggle is real. I know the pain life deals in both fight and flight
It seems an endless ordeal to just stand still and waiit for light

So now I'm looking for a glimpse of something  I can call divine
Or better yet, a brand new set of twenty-twenty eyes
The story's long, infinitely  strong, still it's closely timed
We try beating clocks  in-between small talks of eternal rhyme

I asked a wise man questions once
He answered 'I don't know
'Well then, who does?, I shot back
He dismissed me to go
up onto some mountainside
where cold and shrill winds blow
sure I might gain knowledge there
at the cost of sorrow

Insight to the ways of nature, life and death and time
Mastery over creation's intricate designs
Power to fell tallest trees or move clouds in the sky
But even on the summit, I'd feel low without love's high

Doctor I'm troubled, my girl left me blue
She packed up her things and left for Timbuktu
With my way of living, she doesn't approve
I guess that in sickness or health just won't do

I can't say I blame her though, I love her so
She never could stand all the ways I didn't grow
Grow up out of childhood and out of old clothes
Grow up to be someone she'd forever hold

She once was a free spirit, freer than I
this fact she'd remind me each day and each night
Her mind was amazing ,inquisitive, bright
We made love at midnight and leave on the lights

But time made her sour, and time made her cold
Though I was still child-like and tied to her soul
She ended out marriage the best way she could
She went and got pregnant by some other dude

So please do take pity and help me old friend
This isn't your typical crisis again
Prescribe something strong, for my life I will end
Since this broken heart of mine never will memd

Walking back home tonight,
I was approached by two so-called Elders.
Envoys of God, out in the mission field
looking for a would-be convert.
Wouldnt you know it?----me.
It was dusk and I was tired.
All the birds were roosting in their nests.
Why the **** weren't we?
Have you seen our type before?,
one of them asked me in such similar words.
As if they had just arrived here from red Mars.
The other had a bloodshot eye
and a cheekbone bruised dark purple.
When I asked him the reason why,
he said, "soccer accident."
I said "******" as I thought '*******'.
Some ogre probably decked him in a fiery dispute
over some finer point of scripture.
Guess he didn't wanna hear.
Hell!, I didn't want to hear.
But what choice did I have?
They were more desperate to accomplish their part
in the great commission, than was my need to "feel" it.
We exchanged pleasantries.
Elder number one said his name was Whitford. He was from Utah.
The other hailed from Idaho.
I had just eaten some bad french-fries twenty minutes earlier.
Then after a quickie sidewalk sermon,
I again started for home.
A funny thing dawned on me then.
If he really had an ounce of wit he would have a Ford,
instead of moving on foot or on some silly bike.
Could cover more ground in less time.
More bibles for the masses without ears.
Then the devil tortured my grisly brain,
implanting a vision of Elder number two punching me in the face
in vengeful spite. Enlightenment. Oh the price we pay

I'm selling papers by the river for a nickel.
Shining shoes by the courthouse for a dime.
I'm pushing carts at Maria's Market for a quarter.
And no one knows my name, it's only mine.

I empty garbage cans filled up with once-important things.
And think that menial labor will be but a while.
But then the taunting and the laugh track starts within me.
"There's no rewarding job for you to do my child."

So keep on slaving away
tomorrow and today.
It is God's design, who cares if it is crazy?
The greener grass is still
on someone else's hill,
and you'll never pitch your tent there if you're lazy.

I've got half a mind to turn into some criminal,
and rob every bank in town one afternoon.
If I am caught I'm sure that justice would be fatal.
It would not spare this poor boy from certain doom.

But if I get away..., oh if I get away;
can you imagine just how far I'd go?
I'd find a lady fair, drive Cadillacs, and wear
only the finest in designer clothes.

But I keep slaving away
tomorrow and today.
It's the universe's joke to keep me broken.
The rich man's sweetest wine,
I never taste I find,
when I go to fill my cup I'm short a token.

The lizard speaks a word of warning to the fly at midnight:
"Quit your hovering my friend. Come now and take a respite
from your restless swooshing' round those porcelain plates, delightful.
The ****-sapiens aren't kind and they'll never invite you."

"You'll never sample one small taste of all their scrumptious morsels.
Much less get your belly filled before the swatter scores you.
The old **** in the tie-dye wields it skillfully like zen.
If he was even half as good at playing guitar, I'd listen."

But now I do not wish to bore you with restrictive wisdom.
Besides it's getting rather late and I've just had a vision.
I've seen that through your myriad eyes, one meal is just like ten.
So shut them tightly now and we will play at make pretend."

Envision yourself on that steak, just lapping up the juices.
Get to work efficiently and chew it rather ruthless.
Atta boy!, just keep it going, you are almost through.
Now we'll play another game. It's called, I'm eating you."