When yr vision softens,
there are those that'll say it’s become too blurry—
but I know the real reason—why yr like this.
There is no light where you need to see,
but yr eyesight is the last thing on yr mind,
when everything’s on fire. When it all burns.
It’s so hard to find people that still share their feelings,
like kicking the moonlit asphalt of buildings,
so impossible—it feels impossible.
No matter the punishment, no matter the lesson learned,
you keep falling, further falling down this path
so impossible—it feels impossible. Yr stalling.
Every delicate tool you own, is just an extension
of the hands you’ve honed, memorized positions,
check off the procedures, go thru each step.
Pray to Mary, cry the way Jesus wept.
it’s all coming down today, those buildings are falling,
but you were born for this—you were born for this
it’s always been here. Yr calling.
You stop yr prayer—and instead plea:
Maybe there’s mercy out there, but that's not for me.
If there’s one thing that God will grant me,
please never let me see, oh please,
another one of those G*dforsaken hospitals.
Not again, because right now, how’re you feeling?
so impossible—it feels impossible. Yr falling.
