Getting old, I’m thirty three
And people no longer say my whole life’s in front of me
And my friend died when I was seventeen 
And since then the dream 
Has had no appeal 
Because it simply is not real
As the canvas just gets torn 
Bodies fail and they get worn 
And I have to say goodbye
To everyone when they die
But somehow the veil fell 
And all the people who called me unwell
Are tracking my shoes
Wondering why singing the blues
Sounds so damn good to the sea
As if it’s pulsing to the beat of me 
In the winter of my life
And I should be a wife 
To that man
But I don’t think I can 
Because I don’t want to bear child 
One reason is I want to stay wild
The other is that I can’t leave
Them to the world that I believe
Is only born to be taken away
And even if they’re a baby they cannot stay
Here forever
And I would never 
Want to do that to someone 
Pluck them from security to the drug of done
Counting down the days til they lose
The power of having someone to choose 
To be a lover
And is it just another 
Way of avoiding what’s now
I look at myself and I allow
The crippled and broken
To have the words that I’ve never spoken 
Into the air 
It all was lost til He was there

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