Monday, 25 July 2011

Into the Jungle

And all the while I sit here, screaming, and
You do nothing I can't believe in,
Sometimes I wish it were that I were dreaming,
But no,
No the world still has me at the ankle;
This quicksand life settles around my skin,
I see the end, but I don't recall it begin;
Born with, lived and died in a life of sin,
And so,
So I stay or go, trapped or struggle some more;
In a life I spend grave-digging:
Get busy dying or get busy living,
The more I move the more I'm sinking,
I go,
Go, slip out of sight, deep into shadows,
It's night-time at sea and I'm swimming,
My head floats with dreams full brimming,
In a current I'm never really winning,
And I wish,
I wish it was that I were dreaming.

No comments:

Post a Comment