A Cage To Hold My Dreams
If You Have Any Tears To Shed
If you have any tears to shed,
then let them roll for me
Though clinically I am not dead,
its how I want to be.
If your head is as clear and wise
as mine is dulled by pain
waste no more time on kindly lies,
and do not come again.
If dying would relieve me
of terrors large and small
I'd want to die, believe me,
before the next snowfall
How else to cheat this anguish,
and all that weighs me down,
as sleepless, while I languish,
my thoughts go spinning round
If God were here in any form,
if He would stand beside me
I need not feel this mortal storm,
His kindly arm would guide me.
But even He has left me here
defeated and forsaken,
I am the thing that I most fear,
a demon in the making
This mood has neither face nor shape,
its beams of solid steel
entrap my mind and no escape
seems possible or real
The tortured mind which cannot take
another day alive
is hoping, due to some mistake
tomorrow won't arrive
I lay here in my shuttered cell
where no wildflower grows,
the hour of day I cannot tell,
or when, outside, it snows
If you return, slip me a knife,
I strongly recommend it
and I will take this awful life
And quietly, quickly, end it.
then let them roll for me
Though clinically I am not dead,
its how I want to be.
If your head is as clear and wise
as mine is dulled by pain
waste no more time on kindly lies,
and do not come again.
If dying would relieve me
of terrors large and small
I'd want to die, believe me,
before the next snowfall
How else to cheat this anguish,
and all that weighs me down,
as sleepless, while I languish,
my thoughts go spinning round
If God were here in any form,
if He would stand beside me
I need not feel this mortal storm,
His kindly arm would guide me.
But even He has left me here
defeated and forsaken,
I am the thing that I most fear,
a demon in the making
This mood has neither face nor shape,
its beams of solid steel
entrap my mind and no escape
seems possible or real
The tortured mind which cannot take
another day alive
is hoping, due to some mistake
tomorrow won't arrive
I lay here in my shuttered cell
where no wildflower grows,
the hour of day I cannot tell,
or when, outside, it snows
If you return, slip me a knife,
I strongly recommend it
and I will take this awful life
And quietly, quickly, end it.
