Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god


So the world stops and here I am,
Pondering my shoe size,
Trying to understand my fashion sense,
And wondering when the Indians will get a chance.
No one helps us gain back our land,
Or even considers helping us get ahead.
Hate this world,
A world that throws hate in my face so freely,
And hate seems to be
The only thing that comes freely around here.
I imbibe the environment that I was raised,
Natives hating the whites,
Whites hating the Natives,
And I'm supposed to play both fields?
But I sit and cry, twiddling my thumbs,
Wondering if the star falling from the sky
Is the one that could change my life
In a world where change kills,
Or makes you seriously depressed and suicidal.
I lost a friend to suicide,
So I know what I'm talking about.
Addiction to pain, searing pain,
A knife to skin to cut; an addiction that
There's no cure for, no therapy either.
Why won't the president help us depressive souls
Before something catastrophic happens to us?
Just because we ain't on the news
Doesn't mean we ain't here.

September 8, 2004

*Dolorous is a word in a dictionary if you care to look it up.

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