I am vacant with my desires
somewhat complacent with what I admire
would a loaf of bread suffice
to hold court beneath the knife
to fill a void to play a part
bread fills the belly not the heart
so I’m left with fleshly urges
my body numb as mind it purges
repetition has become my means
a driven madness by routine
I told myself it all shall pass
but I’ve yet set sight on last
a machine is what I’ve become
a madness beating the same drum
a bandleader I am not
I’m just the words that you forgot
you left them here for me to read
on your pastures I gently feed
but what is a man without a mind of his own
what can he reap if his seed wasn’t sown
I will tell you of the weeds that weave
and the words he has that do deceive
a storyteller I’ve become
now my heart has been rendered numb
an ancient vessel who’s lost its way
the winds blow north as the sun does fade
so it’s said that he does sail
towards the sunset where words they fail.