I’m a writer at my worst
Never at my best
In the belly of the beast
I’m boiled like the rest.
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I’m a writer at my worst
Never at my best
In the belly of the beast
I’m boiled like the rest.
The best a man can do most days
is to choose which bridges to let stand
and which bridges to let quietly burn.
For once I’ve got nothing to say.
And that’s o.k.
Or, no…(insert breathe here)
Best not talk about it.
Best leave’er be.
Besides it’s 6:00am and
I can’t sleep so you tell me?
See, the sun’s still going to rise
and I’m still going to run
and Allen’s still going to love
everything and everyone.
And now that I believe again,
so it is, as it was, as it’s always been.
Light and love, light and love, light and love.
I can say I failed
Or
I can say it worked out
just as it was supposed to
And
her and I can move forward
knowing our paths weren’t meant to cross
Again
the past is all we had in common
and well, the past must be laid to rest.
Sleep well my friend
until then
I wish I hadn’t been so mean
But
I wish you only the best,
even though I’m sure that’s hard to believe.