Last night we masked our emotions
under the pouring rain,
That we are never going to be different.
I pleaded to know how you felt
But you drowned out my piety,
With red wine and that bitter sweet
Leandria Johnson song,
All i got.
Maybe wild souls were never made to be tamed,
Created by design
To amuse the heavens
With their wild wanderings and errors.
Do you remember when we raised our fists to the heavens
And made honest threats to God?
We swore that if he ruinned us
He'd pay dearly for our agony.
God bless our foolish souls
I saw you naked the first time in three years
Alone in a boutique london hotel.
We spoke honestly about our imperfections
About private flaws that only heaven and ourselves know about.
So here we are,
with our mastered theater of external perfection
Whilst grappling inside with
a fckd up mind, failing health
And burnt out spirits buckling under the weight of trying to rise above the impossible.
I guess what i am trying to say is,
I have been trying to get these words,
These narratives entirely flawless for You.
Here they are now
Thirty-something years late and just as flawed as when we first began.
I think these words are ready now
I think i am ready now.
Where do we go from here?
God knows we can't fall any harder.
And the vessel that he made of clay
was marred in the hand of the potter;
so he made it again into another vessel,
as it seemed good to the potter to make.
Written to a late night
All i got.
These are my T.Notes