im-no-girl

There is shining sunlight  sifting down though the trees from the gap in the trees as I look up It looked like there would be no more good things happening in my future However my heart is longing and wishing to be loved I love you, I love you That day and now, too I felt some sorrow and become pretty Because I know more then yesterday Even if you are bothered by some trouble you smile like it is nothing What would make you feel better? Ah, I am powerless I worried, I worry That day and now, too The love that I have yet to see and that appears and disappears I have to see and touch with my hands It continues,it will continue

A mother's love is like a circle, it has no       beginning and no ending. It keeps going around and around ever       expanding, touching everyone who comes in contact with it. Engulfing them like the morning's       mist, warming them like the moontime sun, and covering them like a blanket of evening       stars. A mother's love is like a circle, it has no beginning and no ending.

Some stand and look while other do Then come and say what ought to be, To them the world is never right For all is wrong that they can see. They never see the good in things That you and I would like to see They seem to think whatever they say Is just the thing that ought to be.

The jackal watches the leopard when the leopard has killed a springbok. The jackal whines (with uplifted tongue), he begs  the leopard for springbok flesh. He howls, he begs, for he is a jackal.  Thus he howls, he indeed begs, because he is a jackal. Therefore he howls when he begs, he indeed wants the leopard to give him flesh, that he may eat, that he also may eat.        Then the leopard is angry, the leopard kills him, the leopard bites him dead, he lifts him up, he goes to put him into the  bushes; thus he hides him.

You shall not ask what the present tears From the deep of my silence mean! You shall not ask because you know They are memories of long ago! I recall the joys of days gone by, They wanted alas to flit away! I claim and call them forth in vain As though oblivious and never again!

Who is that stranger who knocks hasitantly upon the screen door outside my house. He glances at his watch anxiously it is precisely six o' clock As it is every week Who is this man who sits across the table At a local family diner He glances at his watch again he says we must hurry As he does ever week Who is this image before my eyes who looks so much like me I am careful of what I say not really sure why His opinion should not matter As it does every week Who is this seemingly uncaring soul who stumbles over his words uncomfortably Then attacks mine in the next breath And thinks that he has the right to do so A

the cap is off but the ink is gone and hope is a rope i hung myself on they'd like me to do tricks in my cage 'cause passion's in fashion and i'm full of rage they'd like me to bit some sickly sweet note it's late and i hate whatever i wrote they'd like me to be what i am not but happy and sappy i must have forgot they'd like me to try to seize every day tomorrow more sorrow i feel sick anyway they want me to think quite positively and tonight i might just watch more tv they forced off the cap and the passion is gone and hope is the rope they'll hang themselves on