I hate the swing on which I sit
Sadly I'm a part of it.
I cannot rise, I cannot fall
I cannot move my ass at all.
I can't control the swing
It moves me wildly, playing
Toying with my greatest fears
Spinning wildly through the years
I hate the swing on which I sit
I want badly to be rid of it
But I do not have the power
To leave the swing, not for an hour
Whispering wind
caressing hair, beating brow
dizzying velocity of fuzzy emotion
I drag my feet but it doesn't slow
I am not in control
Madness engulfing...
I
Need.
Direction.
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