| Maybe tonight in the few short moments In which we converse |
| We can speak of something other than the ways our bodies hurt us. |
| Please, please, think of me. I’m Alive and still breathing |
| I’m wondering is this a death bed in which the living lay. |
| This turned out to be something that I have no control over |
| This secret reservoir that can dry up, or spill over |
| As it pleases. This power is stripped from me. |
| So I’m listening for you to speak to me, |
| Of Green Days and Blue Nights, |
| Or at least nothing that even remotely, |
| Reminds me of these Workhorse Days |
| Blame everything on me, |
| I can carry the weight of everyone on my body. |
| Give Justice for these sins, |
| Or at least an explanation for how I have been feeling. |
| Please, please, think of me. I’m Alive and still breathing |
| I’m listening for you to speak to me, |
| Of Blue Days and Green Nights, |
| Or at least nothing that even remotely |
| Reminds me of these Workhorse Days |