Torn I’m torn apart, But I’m not angry. I sing to them from across the field. I know my place, But I’m still lonely. I lay in the grass and draw their big smiling faces, But they don’t see me, They don’t hear me, The song too loud, The faces reflected too proud. But I know my place. Someday I’ll know my name. Someday. Cross-legged I watch the clouds drift, Like me. I dream of a hand brushing lightly across my shoulder In passing, always in passing, Like the drifting clouds And their shadows that I chase till I fall down, breathless, laughing. All like a dream I’ve yet to have, But I’m not angry, I’m much too busy catching them before they fall. Such a bother, like children lost in the dark. I follow their laughter to find them Before they slip away again. Out of sight, out of mind, It makes me laugh, But I’m not angry And these aren’t tears. I know my place. I know my time. I know loneliness, it covers me like morning rime, But I’m not angry And these aren’t tears, Cause once in a while He comes by to hold me up. He holds me up For a moment Then like the cloud drifting by, A familiar hand across my shoulder. For a moment, Then the shadow of the cloud passes Racing across the field, I chase them, till I fall Breathlessly laughing, Tears in my eyes, But I’m not angry, Cause I know every word, See every color, Hear every tone, And I know it won’t be long. The sun will rise And I won’t have to sing alone. I’m not angry. I’m torn apart. I’m grateful. I’m ready. Let’s begin. |