Monday, June 20, 2005

The Moving Target That Shot Back
Hunting The Wolverine

I was never ever rescued
All the times when I was persued

Just because I never went with the flow
Just because I never bent my back low

They tried to break my back
The years have made me number
But I still remember the numbers
Those who set upon me
Those who sat upon me

They never had a good reason
But when they felt that it was the season
They always came
Thinking only of fun and game
I was their game

I always played along to pay them back
But there was no winning one on a pack

It was always hell in a cell
With no way out and no one there to help
When I bled I bled alone
Not sorry but weary and wretched to the bone
With pain and fury etched deep in the stone

I was told I needed medication
But I took a route of meditation
Because I needed no dictation

I still remember the 10 long years
Brought with so much blood and tears
What do you think I think about?

And now I am told I lacked management
But since when was I ever in an engagement?
I live only by my own statement

I have never regretted being who I am.


++ posted by Tristram at 2:05 PM 1 comments



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