I am not to be what was, is, or is to be. |
I think I'm dying My knees are weak As I walk Moving slow and silent I fall, the cliff is steep Its blood-covered ridges Slipping, as I go along Twirling in the air Forcing my arms out to the mountain I was told that If I keep going the way I was going Eventually I'd come to a bad end I've hit that end It's cold and lonely at the bottom It's cold and lonely at the top too My brow is wet My heaving stops I am released from my tired body I am done No more am I here Evermore will I be Cold and dark Cold and lonely A salad of races A tomb of mixture I am doomed to be what I am I am what I feared I fear what I am I no not how it began Nor how to end it When you think you know Exactly how it is going Turn back, you are what is not to be You can smell the hatred in the air I travel in a cold pocket People can hear the pain in my voice And the humor They identify with me With what I say I was not born I was not made I am here for no reason Maybe, I'll just fade Stick in a chair Just jell in that one spot No more, no more Meaningless is life Am I this to be doing? Not me, somebody else Somebody special I'm not special I am finished Take me not While there is still light |