When it has me in its sights I am powerless
Left to whine in a heap and scramble for solid ground
Isn’t this natural for a human to do?
Even the most ready resist being taken

It comes to me slowly, teasing and pestering
Poking me cleverly
I eventually give up and give in
Grab some paper and a half empty pen –
destined to stop my stream in some distant or soon mid-rambling

What does someone who can do it all do?
How is the choice made and do I want to be with you?
The lists grow and the time flies
after going to painfully slow

Held a prisoner by the bank and the anti-bodies
I don’t know what to do or where to go
The search for the escape door yields no clues
or leads as to who has the decent weed -

something I seem to need/not need

Then She finds me and digs her talons in
I scream in painful ecstasy and give into my fate
For the day, for my life

I wonder why I resisted in the first place, an act I could not help
Picking up the pen, or the pad, or the guitar
Might has well be picking up a truck with my bare hands
Why is this art such a joke to the fools running this terrorist land?

For a moment I consider giving in
Selling out for the benefit of my account,
my filet, the ideals of the near-dead men
But then I remember those talks I’ve had

She wants to know how I could believe Her then
and yet question Her now
I wish She’d make Herself reappear
To my re-belief somehow

I think She’s trying
Maybe it’s me
I am accountable for everything, I see
I’m on the verge of crying over nothing apparently
Because the answer to the “why”
Is locked deep within me

Dear Great Spirit set me free
From this pentameter of fear and failure
Release me, allow myself to let me be
Open my eyes so I can see

When it has me in its sights I am powerful.

 
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