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Seems my life is of extremes
Everyone bleeds from my dreams.
I hold the knife it is true,
But that doesn’t mean it was meant for you.
A face in a crowd speaks in silence
Very loud
Makes me hold my ears and shut my eyes
Feet keep moving as I drift through
The host of bodies in this stew.
I was never meant to be a morsel
In the gullet of the beast.
I was told as a child
I was invited to God’s feast.
At times I taste the smell
From just across the fence,
Someone roasting something new
At the divine barbecue
It isn’t me that’s for sure,
I still hope to live some more.
That doesn’t mean that I care
Whether I’m here or almost there.
I haven’t killed, but I have maimed,
and been wounded all the same.
That’s one gift we all have,
The ability to spread pain.
That doesn’t mean I’m alone
Or that I’ve got someone at my side.
We’re all just hollow shells
Just along for the ride.
