Calling for an intervention
when I can't hold a life in my hands.
I leave it abused and emptied
like broken bottles on the floor.
I try and I fail and I kill,
wicked needs to be made up for.
Enough blood spatter’s collected here in patterns
in the space between scattered pieces of mind and soul.
Stuck behind stained glass eyes, thick-ringed like Saturn,
can't lay your hands on it, so old and small and full of holes.
I can't hold a conversation
and I can't hold someone's life in my hands.
I leave them abused and bloodied,
broken on the side of the road,
dragged along for miles;
a nightmare of a joyride!
Breakneck speeds and no brakes to speak of,
I'm looking to break my neck as the tape deck
shrieks a constant hiss. Another near miss
with oncoming headlights. Slalom through street signs
and telephone poles ... a way to save your soul.
We throw away those who dream big
only to die small and full of holes,
we're left with no one at all;
we can't live with ourselves,
so old and small and full of holes.
Enough disaster's found here in measured patterns.
On the desert highway of your life there's no control.
Behind stained glass eyes a twisting cancer
chews through good intention; a promise held collateral.
Breakneck speeds and no brakes to speak of,
I'm looking to break my neck as the tape deck
shrieks a constant hiss. Another near miss
with oncoming headlights. Slalom through street signs
and telephone poles. If there is a way to save your soul ...
let me know ... and I'll let go.
Enough blood spatter's been thrown around in patterns,
accidents along the side of the road.
Shards of glass find home in our eyes and we push faster
to lay a hand on it, so old and small and full of holes.
