Just A Man

Just a Man You may be just a man, but when you're before me Your skin is marbled, your eyes are broken and jeweled You may be only just a man of bones, blood, and flesh Though your old formalities still have yet to color me fooled And maybe your impersonal, customary ways Have done all but quench my endless dreamers' thirst But divine interventions that occupy my buzzing mind Persist in forcing me to feel your heart strings' pull Now I've grown in a day, in a strange resistant way And I've been shown too well the way to go off course You've been so forgiving, im deafened by these angry mirrors At all the ways I've tried to outrun my truest source And the half of me that's bred of aged contempt and veangeful red Well it's always been a side I loathed and pictured marred So I could thank you in a day, whether in a timid or emphatic way But I know no words can define me from those of yesterday that left you scarred My dull efforts at resolve become so pale and out of sight Not a day passes where I don't break alongside your drunken ghost And with years passing, forced inward by regret I'm much more burdened by a clearer sight Of how I aided in the murder of the man I worshipped most I see you blue and green and pure With only half of a glimpse of the things you've endured And by the time you leave I'm certain that in my eyes you'll much resemble your own God's form I need you now, but I hide in despair I cannot fathom how to make you aware Of a plague of locusts nearing behind you on the horizon, I fear soon we'll be swarmed. Yes you may be just a man And though my messages in the sand Will wash away with each new wave of father time's tidal change All I can say is you're a man Who blessed me with depth, and adorned me by hand With every treasured piece of grace and wisdom my mother's nature had failed to attain My old regrets hang like a cloud Whose veins of lightning hit so loud And as you near the end of your road I'm trapped here, and mute I doubt I'll timely make you proud I hope at least you'll see me out Of this familiar house of guilt and ill repute The distance and change made by what is done Has now reasonably left me feeling dead, forever shunned Mourning glories grow on a barbed wire fence that's become obsolete I'm lost for decision, to speak out, hide, or run The flowers no longer bend toward the sun And other flowers and summer crops grow thick around my feet.