Been Waiting, Lord

Whereas they want it all, grabbing blindly at none, my eyes are open so give me some
Been waiting on this Lord, wondering how it’s gonna come,
How my hands will be positioned, where my irises will be aimed,
Will it follow the way of the world, or the rules of the game
Where profit equals smiles through a soul’s exchange,
Or perhaps a miracle that cannot be explained?
Will selfishness usher the demise of my favor?
Will I ever bear fruit for my labor?
Or will that sweet taste be unavailable for me to savor?

Whereas they want it all, lost in the error of their fun, my eyes are open so give me some
Been waiting on this Lord, wondering how it’s gonna come,
How my mouth will sing your praise, or be full of lamentation,
Will I be standing amidst a family and their adoring admiration,
Where my soul is at ease and I live free of frustration?
Or perhaps I am pursuing more education?
Will I suffer the sins that my father has wrought?
Will I leave this world still seeking the unsought?
Or will I rest assured of the price my soul was bought?

Lend me your hand, God, let me stand
I want to be your warrior, but I am just a man
To work out the journey and perform your plan
My eyes are watching you Lord, here I am.

Pink Pants

Can’t you see it’s bothering me?
A stale kiss covering your caustic angst
You’re dripping your world in front of me, a watery nothing
To step over and avoid while ducking your lollipop face
Tears are for friends of martyrs and their inevitable Wake

Don’t worry too long with your nose in the air
I am punching holes in your picture, a pen through your eyes
I really hope you see me, I hope you see
It’s really bothering me and I don’t want you to change
Your reddish lips part to say something I heard yesterday

Distant stars caress my memories as I hold the night sky
Something of a wonder, this world, its charm
Something of a bargain of evil, ring the alarm
You’ve risen to cause trouble again, and you cry
You cry buckets when my eyes are dry

LOL! Can’t you see it’s bothering me?
These robots, iron-headed mules that pose like marionettes,
Trying to hold up the veil, its transparent glory,
the strawberry smear on a white sheet
the typographical error I choose to delete.

Won’t you come with me, huh, won’t you?
The whistles of candid enthusiasm
Marked optimism, the blurred vision of hope
Sitting in the right place, wanting nothing, asking never
To see something else I don’t want to need.

It’s me, it’s you and it’s time in a bottle
Preserved for your attention on a day when you can’t think
I’m pushing down the pedal, I mash at full throttle
Washing the reds in whites will turn your pants pink
Put some bleach in the water and soak them in the sink.