My skin is white
My blood is red
Here I stand beneath the dead blue sky
Lives shift and fall like raindrops
But I can’t tear my eyes from the gutter’s oil schlerings
Is it true that we have only once to make it right?
To write the fight and maybe win?
What is this goal you dream and why can’t I see?
Enough of questions.
Now I lay me down –
To wake? Or are we already dreaming?
I pray the Lord my soul to keep –
For what eternal purpose?
Just let me live before I die.