And I can't become my father when it's all been said and
done. His completions won't complete me. I've divided me by
one. I'm the answer to his riddle. I'm the caution of his
wind. I'm the spoon wedged between tongue and teeth beneath
his trembling grin. And I dare add my revision for I dare
not suffer twice. And I dare not re-invent the past. And I
dare not be the Christ. And I welcome any sufferer. And I
welcome any Saul, sitting in this room on wooden bench
waiting for Joi to call. And I suffer here alone, Lord,
perturbed by my every thought. How I've tried to strip them
to the bone, I've struggled and I fought. Every jealous,
warped intention, smuggled, sewn into my genes. Every
hidden mongrel tendency exploiting me in me.
Each time I put them under
But still they wanna test me!
I cry out through the thunder
You storm right past me!
I search and I ponder.
I question and wonder.
I roar and I thunder.
Please let me in.
I've been waiting here for what now seem the better of an
hour. I've raised every crippled question from the dead and
given power to the abscense of my sanity. The presence of
a fear that lies in between forgotten dreams that pile up
every year. Up above your highest testaments, down below
the wooden floor, there's a gutted room, pitch black at
noon, beneath a hidden door. Deep within you'll find the
attributes of every sunken man who must bang his head
against the dead each day he tries to stand. And he's
standing pressed against the very woman that he loves.
Kissing eyes and lips, embracing hips, surrendering to her
touch and just at the very moment that he touches heart to
heart, she pulls from his touch, 'cause it's too much to
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