Black River in a Drought

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BW Johnson

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I think I have a problem with obsessive loneliness
Like to feel cold and brutal and boneless
And empty and twisted and floppy and heartless
Yet tearful and sad of everything regardless
Of what may be to come or what may have come before
Ignorant of anything just waiting for the door
To swing back open, let the light pour in
Tired and cold, my soul's grown cold

Where do I find an outcome to this tragedy
Of considering myself as being as bad as anything
Or anybody would see me and see a wretch
Alone
The sky may come alive with crashing thunder and my eyes
May burn alive and scream as they die
But my soul's growing cold and slowly so am I

Go and get out of bed, put all my clothes on
Walk out the door and forget what I'm here for and
Walk in a daze to the next step on this path to debt, to loss, to pain
Losing my childhood ain't what I'm upset about
It's gaining weight
This weight as I'm buried underground
No coffin allowed, only dirt fills my mouth
And I jump each stone across a black river in a drought

I run away from the water and run for the desert
And I'm flooded back over with feelings so persistent
Tight into a coil, I feel my wrists, they ache
And it's all spiralling around, a brain itself is twisted and fake
I feel wrists and they ache from the long days 
Of nothingness and my hands start
To shake and my
Fingers are crooked

And it's all just one take for a Hollywood blockbuster
Just wait 'till they show it, you'll pay good money and they'll prosper
And I'll again spiral down until I get another answer to my
Moans of longing for what really isn't there
So away it goes in its own way to disaster
And the air spins around and I'm
Stuck under the weight
And it curls around my soul and freezes it each day 
And slowly I feel it decay
But I'll be damned if I ever get taken away

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