Sometimes I just want to throw something, smash the glass right over the room;
Sometimes I want to roll tight up, eyes shut to the glare of blood;
Sometimes I want an ending, or beginning, just not this unending – stuckness.
But brokenness is what brokenness does and the respite still too fleeting;
Rolled up tight, means blind and bloodied by things so clearly coming;
Begin the end, end the begin, find the space to breathe again.
Own the feeling, feel the pain, there ain’t no gain till you dance in the rain:
When it come down, to the it why what, there’s only you her me. And I