I live on my grandmother’s land
She sees what I see, what I do…
There’s no hiding from her. But I want to (?)
She works hard everyday in ways I never could,
I owe her so much
She’s the ultimate woman, the true mother nurturer,
Or is it some illusion I’ve convinced myself of?
I need to see others as good and myself as bad,
She’s all I wish I could be, I wonder if she ever feels the same about me…
There’s no escaping family,
I need her more than I’m willing to admit
Cut the cord and let’s be free,
But will that shatter the perfect image?
Im not sure I’m ready for that
To see things for what they truly are
Are you an Angel or something entirely different
Im confused
Are you too?
Am I the crazy one or is it you?
I wonder what it’s like,
To be you.
Sometimes I think if/when you die I’ll finally get some of your charm, morbid thought but probably not. I can’t see my life without you in it. With you dead and gone. We’re one and the same.
I think maybe my life is like your death.
I’m so hungry so I stuff my face but it doesn’t work,
I need what you’ve got but I’m no where near as smart as you or is that just another silly excuse?
So comfortable so complacent so familiar.
It’s like a trap.
Give up my soul to let yours shine through my eyes
I’m doing you a favour as you do me. Where’s the grey?
I can’t truly be comfortable here, in my soul. Are you?
Maybe I’m meant to live vicariously through you,
Forget about my own life
When will it all come crashing down