I wish I was a simple song,
you would hear me on the radio
and sing me while you shower.
I wish I was always on the tip of your tongue,
or reflected in a tear
caressing your holy cheek.
Iíve been away on business for months
Maybe even years
Iím glad to be home
As long as Iím here I might as well get my affairs in order
At any moment I might step out for coffee
And never return
What kind of hell is this?
Forced to think for myself.
Thrust into decisions.
Held accountable for my actions.
Never allowed to be subservient
To a higher god.
Or a better man.
A swingset in a swamp
When and where am I going to wake up
It just doesnít fill me up anymore.
I want to lie there and listen to music.
Not even that can excite me.
I would kill myself
If I wasnít so afraid