The need to quantitate has
Put center stage: regret, remorse, regard.
Crazed and calm with a sinners psalm,
Memories lose their art.
So I circle thoughts with centered eyes
That stare without ever seeing,
But it's getting dim and just before any reasons can be revealed,
I fall.
...And I don't want to get up.
Just leave me down here,
Down where the truth wont go.
No, I don't want to give up.
Just dust me off, and I swear you'd never know.
Oh no!
Look away.
Shade your eyes.
Don't. Stop.
...Then, there's the simple fact that
I was born this way
In such a taut assimilation of mistakes.
Don't you misjudge what I'm capable of
If I'm heir to a broken will...
I'll fall.
...And I don't want to get up.
Just leave me down here,
Down where the truth wont go.
No, I don't want to give up.
Just dust me off, and I swear you'd never know.
Oh no!
Look away.
Shade your eyes.
Don't. Stop.
Leave the pain behind,
Casting fear to the side
For just a moment
So things can align.
And if I fall,
Sometimes that's just fine.
As long as I get up,
Then things are alright.
Oh no!
Don't look away.
Don't shade your eyes.
Don't stop.