method acting, nothing gets crossed out, waste of paint, from a balance beam, laura laurent

'Cause I don't know what tomorrow brings.
It is alive with such possibilities.
All I know is I feel better when I sing.
Burdens are lifted from me, that's my voice rising!
I have sat too long in my silence.
I have grown too old in my pain.
To shed this skin, be born again,
it starts with an ending.
So thank you friends for the time we shared.
My love stays with you like sunlight and air.
Oh how I truly wish I could keep hanging around here
but my joy is covering me. Soon, I will disappear.
We have a problem with no solution but to love and to be loved.
So, I've made peace with the falling leaves.
I see their same fate in my own body.
But I won't be frightened when I am awoken from this dream
and returned to that which gave birth to me.


So when I'm lost in a crowd,
I hope that you'll pick me out.
Oh, how I long to be found.
But if everything that happens is supposed to be
and it is predetermined, can't change your destiny.
Then I guess I'll just keep moving, someday, maybe, I'll get to where I'm going.


And I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually
receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.
And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.
Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery,
where you can scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry",
just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky.
As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.
And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.
And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven.
So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off.
And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God
and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul...

But in all of my salvation I still felt imprisoned inside that holding cell that is myself.
So I wait for the day when I'll hear the key as it turns in the lock
and the guard will say to me, "Oh my patient prisoner you have waited for this day
and finally you are free! I'll cut out my lover's tongue and sing of a graveyard gray and a garden green
and we won't have to worry no more. No we won't have to wonder again about
how this song or story ends about how this song and story will end.


But do you know we are in high demand,
Laura, us people who suffer? Because we don't take to arguing and we are quick to surrender....
Your thoughts have always laid close to mine. We were both skipping supper.
But you should never be embarrassed by your trouble with living.
Because it is the ones with the sorest throats, Laura, who have done the most singing.