This song is indescribably deep with elements from different genres and time periods. Give it a listen independently of the piece or play it while you read. These two go together like potted meat and saltines.
Judgmental people made me imperfect and in their judgmental stew I marinated. My mirror is the liar and my vision is not to be trusted.
I can recall with some effort when love of self was the order of my day and as common as an exhale.
Good thoughts flowed like time. Now that flow has been dammed and deviated to the desert of second guessing.
The me I know turned into the me I knew. The solid self-reflections of others pelted me from below as that was their only angle.
Confusion was a leech that slowly sapped my love of life, sunsets, seeing people and breathing. My person had a broken leg and was set for pasture.
To the wounded time will heal, for me time is hell. Left flailing in an ocean the only hope is to drink to not drown.
All is not lost for me.
I still have my awe inspirations. My time here is not wasted. The mountains I love so much are here. The trees that sway in the afternoon breeze are still here.The female form that I truly love is still a work of art. I still have plenty of love in me.
We are just primates sitting in front of computers with no keyboards, left unimpressed and bored we tear at each other.
We still have forgiveness in us.