Storm Shelter

I try so hard to touch you
but my fingers won't reach out
the cold that winds around me
contributes to your doubt
my footsteps fade into the snow
I'm hanging from your limb
and you whisper that you don't really know
what or who I am

The dusty hay lays on my lungs
my fingers grasp your mane
no bit no bridle no control
we walk out in the rain
uncertainty begins to grow
your passion turns to whim
you whisper you don't really know
just what or who I am

So forgive the stranded sailor
as he tries to quench his thirst
thinks that he is all alone
but really he's just first
I grasp your oar I pull to row
I dream of a sail to trim
and you whisper you don't really know
what or who I am

now I walk upon these gilded streets
but I'm dying in my shoes
heels inside the gutter
as I read the daily news
Dull eyes are all I have to show 
to that wall in Bethelehem
and you whisper that you'll never know
what or who I am

Its so odd to be a victim
to have this choice to choose
to be taught that upon our lives
there is no win or lose
So with bare feet upon ground below
I refuse to be condemned
but I still whisper that I'll never know
just what or who I am.

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