And those eyes looked at me as if they were foreign to my skin
Casual gestures of indifference in meaningless language
As if I had been a begger on the street
Selling my soul for free
Selling a chance to prove that my heart isn't weak, that my mind isn't crumbling, that my art isn't bleak
That I knew what I was doing
that I know where to be
That I'm not fronting, not pretending
Not lost on a dead end street
Yet you've retreated deep in mellow
And I'm already walking away
A masochistic choice yet it had to be done this way

09/17/2002

Posted on 09/19/2002
Copyright © 2025 Ginette T Belle