| And though I couldn’t see
|
| Repetition of a vision
|
| Came to me in a dream
|
| How the mind can make you guess!
|
| Traded losses for a new mess
|
| And if I could’ve turned my head
|
| When I spat out the window, ah! |
| --
|
| Would I have felt the wind?
|
| Though we kept driving on
|
| In the car towards the reservoir, my
|
| Mind conjured up the Bridge:
|
| Each side looked like the other one
|
| I couldn’t tell where I had come from!
|
| But it made no difference --
|
| Getting through meant
|
| Returning, back to you
|
| Healing is a battle in the
|
| Between the approaches of
|
| Obsessive preservation and the
|
| Brittle separation from
|
| All pleasures doubling as the
|
| Source of our fear and pain
|
| So sometimes, propelling
|
| Through these minor destructions
|
| Kind of feels like
|
| Healing is a battle in the
|
| Between the approaches of
|
| Obsessive preservation and the
|
| Brittle separation from
|
| All pleasures doubling as the
|
| Source of our fear and pain
|
| So sometimes, propelling
|
| Through these minor destructions
|
| Kind of feels like
|
| A mistake
|
| So, I began to walk
|
| And soon discovered
|
| I had recovered
|
| Steps I’d already made
|
| And the bridge let me advance
|
| In the offering of a new chance
|
| And should I feel fucked up when I
|
| Still expect?
|
| When I let it in?
|
| It scares me to begin
|
| But if I don’t trust again
|
| Could I ever face the wind? |