Sleepless. Weary again. Questions fill my head. What could it be that you need? Is it me, or is it my child? Confessions. Well, what can I say? When
I've come down from the high Kissed my dreams goodbye So I guess I'll be leaving soon My luck has run dry And I can't figure why So I guess I'll be
The cardboard box that I use to mend my shoes has shrunk to a couple of square feet My diet consists of dandelion-roots Sleeping on a dirt bed with thorn
When you left I had to make this place my own To get on with my life Brought down all these boxes from the attic to pack everything here that had anything
So this is your picture? Well, that's what you say. That a square has four corners and so it shall stay. Wouldn't it be better if you were wrong? Can
Here they come, the voices. No use to pretend I can't hear telling me I Don't deserve this. They rape my thoughts and rob me of my self-esteem until
Sprung from earth just like a tree A man with no identity Flesh and bone like you and me Exept for two extremities From elbow down in hickory It's like
Oh, what have we done? Is it true? Is everything gone? Why didn't we listen to you? This could have had a different end. I know. So look over your shoulder
