These are the lean times.
The in between times.
The belly full,
but sometimes the mind screams
and I’m
nose to the grindstone,
eyes on my own work,
feet on the way to a milestone,
soul on a slow burn.
It was my turn
and I took it without question.
My mind made up
no stutter in apprehension.
There’s no depression
when you’re up this high,
just lust green valleys
where I feel alive.
It was my time to suffer.
I do it like no other.
Take all the pain
and all the rage,
I get that from my mother.
Endure insane amounts
of bullshit and problems
and still stick around
until I find ways to solve ’em.
I never gave up on anything
that wasn’t trying to kill me.
I never walked away,
I stayed,
and I think you’ll agree,
that what we really see
is what we want
and if all we see is bullshit,
then it’s all our fault.
So let me – suffer like Jesus,
if he can handle it,
then so can I.
Look up and see me
I’m about to touch the fuckin’ sky.
I don’t apologize
for my words,
or this joint,
it’s not important,
I guess I’m used to disappointment.
But I’m giving up on one thing;
failing myself.
It’s like I’m digging a grave
that made for somebody else.
No time left
to try to digest
this kind of help,
all I’ve known is pain;
fuck it – I’ll do it myself.
It’s been a while
since I wrote the words to rhyme this way.
I can see the morning’s coming,
try again another day.
These are the early hours
in between the days
where time plays tricks on the mind
and I’m lost in the fade
of grey light
that’s showing me
the way to tomorrow.
Leave behind yesterday’s
sacrifices and sorrow
and borrow a little hope
so I can cope with the pain.
It’s all I’ve made,
clear as day,
in the times between change.
HG – 2017
