That song is playing agan
The one I play to praise
when I’m afraid
I won’t make it this time.
“Even when it hurts”
I pray again with beads
Clutched in my hand
Like a holy card or nun
Oh, God, Please don’t let me die.
It’s another one of those nights,
I don’t know if I’m dying
Or if my body is lying.
And if my body is lying
Is that better or worse than dying?
If this thing I live in can’t be
Trusted, or relaxed in.
If that, then how do I live
Again, how do I live this way,
How do I exist in a body
That lies? Or dies?
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