I am one, and they are all

I know I cannot help it

Someone asks me what the cost is,

I close my eyes, relax my hands and stop

What change did you expect?

A search is on and you can’t get away from it.

Ain’t that a six-inch stone in your wheel?

Don’t you get the shakes when it’s gotten too late and the brakes on your door aren’t working?

And the stove coils in your head are heating up an’ burning

So you curse yourself and you assume someone out there is tricking you, someone out there is kicking you.

That someone is caring too much and maybe it’s the wrong way.

And you can’t figure which temperature feels good and you don’t even know if some out there do.

And what do you do if everyone thinks of you badly?

What do you say when the feeling that’s got you wrapped up in knots is paranoia and you try so badly to rid it from you?

How do you sleep when your brain is mad at you?

Do you look into others eyes for a choice or ought you to think that there’s a chance you may be right?

And ain’t that some kind of feeling?

Isn’t that something you aren’t sure you want but feel you know you need?

What do you do when the tricksters are planning?

What do you do when you feel you can’t be wrong it’s that all things thinking of you are meant for deceiving?

Do you try with your whole soul best to follow your head and stick to your breast?

Should you hope for a reason to convince you on what you’re feeling?

It’s when the river bed can be seen by a bird with one wing that you know you’re bleeding.

When the whole sky and all its friends can put on a sheet and worry you when you sleep. Is it the letters that decide the end or is it the season?

When you wake with London’s sprinkling you can’t go back to dreaming for the best of your reasons.

You can act like a rebel or sing on a step.

You can hope for the night to come down but you know you can’t help but not believe it.

So you drink ‘till the plastic guards start retreating.

You hurt your chest so badly it starts caving in behind you and soon enough you’re bound to find the things that held you are now the things you must carry around.

And they want to go this way or the other and no matter what choice is made your brain won’t be bothered.

And you start seeing pathways that you haven’t gotten but have been given and you try to cry with all your might because you know this ain’t the usual gift-giving.

But you can’t cry ‘cause your souls been hidden.

Your mind’s been delivered but it ain’t your name on it written.

And it scares you half to death even though you don’t know if you believe in the thing you keep searching for.

You can’t excuse yourself anymore.

You can’t keep asking for a sentence.

And all you want is someone to show you where it was you went missing.

And no one believes you because nobody here listens.

What do you do when the price has been lifted?

When their patience wears thin and you think it’s them that are sinning?

Do you think to yourself while kicking god, what’s their thinking?

Didn’t they go to school or were they the whole time just whistling?

And you don’t want to think these thoughts in the worst of your seasons but you can’t help but think it’s them that are cheating.

What do you do when you think you are wrong?

When it’s you and not them that have been misspelling your name all along?

Do you think these thoughts ‘till your brain starts un-weaving and your bridges come down heaving?

Or do you think it best to hit the road on all fours and stop at the very last fever-torn store to figure out just what you’ve been reading?

If you can’t find it where you’ve been looking is it best to stick to those thoughts or do you think it’ll help to quit thinking about whatever it is you’ve been eating?

And if that ain’t it where do you look?

You can shake hands with each doorknob but you know it might lead you somewhere you’ve been before.

Down a road that’s no good anymore but you go because you’ve forgotten yesterday and more.

And maybe down the weakened path, you’ll find a heart that can bring you back.

But you get hesitant when you see that hand coming to yours because you know you could be wrong and if you are you fear you may lose the thoughts in your head that have kept you running for so long.

So you hold onto these thoughts with shovels already in their hands.

But isn’t it going that way these days?

You can’t lay right cause the things you think are true just won’t stop bothering you and the thought you might be wrong keeps you hurting all night long.

And you feel guilty even though you aren’t sure why and the thought of any happening makes you feel your stomachs filled with fire-flies.

And you wonder why you feel so bad and you say you try but you hardly do.

And you want to blame somebody but you don’t know who.

And when that feeling comes you stop in your tracks because you don’t know where to point the finger at and you’re scared it might get bitten off by ideas you thought were long written off, better left alone, or put in a retirement home.

So you feel tricked and embarrassed because your ropes are tied too tight on the harness and you act harmed by the ones thought to understand you best.

Are you wrong for shining your sword too long or practicing your whip too strongly?

Are you understanding at all or are jokes thrown at your name behind the mall where you thought the kids once crawled but you know they might be the ones with the ball?

And you don’t want to feel this way but others think you do.

You try and help the cause but can’t stop thinking all the while they’re hurting you.

So you surround yourself with very few in an effort to produce just who it is you’ve been calling “you”.

But that ain’t what you think you want to do.

So why does the sound of voices bother you so much until you crack and crunch the idea of being in touch?

What do strangers tell you that not even your closest crutch could?

What answer do you give when the lights are on so bright it burns your eyes all the way thru to the inside?

If your marbles are too slowed down do you kneel to the chrome buildings and give in expecting some sort of healing?

And you start running sideways and get all turned around even though you know this ain’t the right way into town.

So you build a wall of sand that blocks the beggars from your hand and all the while people question where you stand.

You aren’t sure yourself but it seems a better way than winding up lying down on 6 pieces of wood with a person only known as a saint and you think she’s no good.

Do you keep pushing even when the feeling is gone?

Is it best to keep up construction even though you know that it’s wrong?

And if you hear that you are the one holding the wrong cards do you continue to weep even when the royal clown comes knocking at your door.

So you’ll wait and wait ‘till he’s been at your door too long and starts moving on. And in your church, you sit and think if you’re going in the right direction or if you should cut off your feet.

You can choose to save your water and walk down that street or you can hope for forgiveness on the other side of the parade that’s lit up with people who’d rather stay awake than sleep.

You feel you’re right though you’re told you’ve been wrong before.

But it doesn’t matter anymore cause your captain’s already heading to the shore opposite the one that holds the people you’ve denied once or twice or more.

And behind they sway their hands and shout to you through the waves.

They cry for your return but you can’t go back again seeing as it’s too far a swim.

And even if you could you feel you’d be giving a lie you’ve already shown once to them. So you jump off the boat and can only hope that you’re right.

But you cry in your hours when you’re locked up inside and you think to yourself if your thoughts are really yours

And you open up a door filled with questions you ain’t seen before

And want to shout out but there’s no one left standing by your door

And you wish you hadn’t been asking questions full of scorn

But you did and you’ll find that people don’t care for poor souls anymore

And even if they did, in the end, you start back all over again

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