ferrydust

My hair was long and shiny.. you said you can’t believe…
how could I walk out that door, or walk out on the streets…
you told me I should, you know, do some bing bang curly whirly afro thing..
I took your word and did… looked in my mirror — “who’s that freak?”
Why does the world deceive?
Why do I make believe?
took my heel and made Achilles out of me…
still I would want to be
Someone who’d answer to me.

Someone who sees like a child, gives like a saint,
feels like an angel — never mind the broken wings,
and speaks like a picture, cries like the rain, shines like a star,
as long as the fire remains.

The vase beside my bed, it’s empty — almost dead.
“It’s for all the flowers I’m gonna give you,” he said,
and now it’s collecting dust instead.

Why does the world deceive?
Why do I make believe?
took my heel and made Achilles out of me…
still I would want to be
Someone who’d answer to me:

Someone who sees like a child, gives like a saint,
feels like an angel — never mind the broken wings,
and speaks like a picture, cries like the rain, shines like a star,
as long as the fire remains.