So you're 52
Man that makes me feel old
I wish you could find that happy
Picture you alone at night up in Washington Heights
And it's just like when you were thirteen
Hanging in that attic all by yourself
I know you think you've got that inner peace thing going
But that beautiful rage is there waiting to explode
And all the meditation and all the circles
Can't lift that anger that is so deep within
Spend your days helping others who can't help themselves
And come home at night and no one's there to help you
I put too much on you back in the day
Made you play my dad when you didn't have one either
You were my protector and you were my light
And I was too little to see that wasn't right
When you took off on us all those years ago
A part of me died, just died
It wasn't fair and it wasn't right
But when you're little you don't know better
Thought you betrayed me, thought I wasn't worth it
You weren't running from me, you were running from you
Too much weight for any boy to carry
And now all these years later it seems you're still lost
Don't want that for you but I don't have a clue
How to get you where you deserve to be
Been 52 long years of desperation
Not much worth eating cake about
But man I love you and even if you never save yourself
You fucking saved me and I thank you
3 comments:
That's what I'm talking about! I feel that...
"Beautiful rage" Nirvana just came on my i-pod. Weird listening to Kurt scream as I read those words. It's yet another near-perfect turn of phrase that I'll steal.
You need someone in the publishing industry to advise you, to let out all that beautiful rage. Throw in the fight against despair, sorrow, addiction and bad memories.
"Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" has just started playing.
I don't know what to say. That is awesome. (you could check your "your/you're" usage but that's not what you need to hear).
Raw & real.
He needs Tai Chi. You need a publisher, like Tourguide said.
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