Yesterday
Slipping words fall out of my mouth
and land at the feet of the judge
torn and strewn across mowed grass
afraid to breathe or move a nudge
Why am I scared to say goodbye?
Is my faith not as high as I thought
Will my last memory be yesterday?
Will my mind always be caught
in your eyes
Everytime I think I've healed
a fresh scab is brushed aside
stitches ripped and words digging deep
my face so bright and impossible to hide.
HMM 7/1/99
and land at the feet of the judge
afraid to breathe or move a nudge
Why am I scared to say goodbye?
Is my faith not as high as I thought
Will my mind always be caught
in your eyes
Everytime I think I've healed
a fresh scab is brushed aside
stitches ripped and words digging deep
my face so bright and impossible to hide.