Culture

This Was Water

My momma has drunk water in years, and David Foster Wallace died of suicide.

There were these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says,

“Morning, boys, how’s the water?”

And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes,

“What the hell is water?”

“The point of the fish story is merely that the most obvious, important realities are often the ones that are hardest to see and talk about. Stated as an English sentence, of course, this is just a banal platitude, but the fact is that in the day to day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have a life or death importance…”

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My God Kids

I'm the God Mother:

I’m the God Mother: “Because you’re like a fairy godmother who makes dreams come true, only we don’t believe in fairies.”

My dad’s new wife used to work at Apple Inc. She got there because “nobody told her she couldn’t,” as she so whimsically put it. She is an extremely creative, talkative, and pushy person. She inspires. She thinks in pictures. She’s a social media butterfly, connected. She’s charitable. Take all of these characteristics to the hundredth degree, and you have Angela Marie Baxley Glass.” — Melissa Andrea, here with her older brother Adrian Quezada, and little sister Gianna Vanessa

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Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Music

Darryl + Angela

Darryl + Angela

www.baxleyglass.com

All my bags are packed I’m ready to go
I’m standin’ here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye
But the dawn is breakin’ it’s early morn
The taxi’s waitin’ he’s blowin’ his horn
Already I’m so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go
Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh baby, I hate to go

Every place I go, I’ll think of you
Every song I sing, I’ll sing for you
When I come back, I’ll wear your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go
Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time let me kiss you
Close your eyes I’ll be on my way
Dream about the days to come
When I won’t have to leave alone
About the times, I won’t have to say

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go
Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh baby, I hate to go

Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh baby, I hate to go…

…I’m coming home.

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Music

Society

Into the Wild

It’s a mystery to me
We have a greed with which we have agreed
You think you have to want more than you need
Until you have it all you won’t be free

Society, you’re a crazy breed
I hope you’re not lonely without me

When you want more than you have
You think you need
And when you think more than you want
Your thoughts begin to bleed

I think I need to find a bigger place
‘Cause when you have more than you think
You need more space

Society, you’re a crazy breed
I hope you’re not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you’re not lonely without me

There’s those thinking more or less, less is more
But if less is more how you’re keeping score?
Means for every point you make your level drops
Kinda like it’s starting from the top, you can’t do that

Society, you’re a crazy breed
I hope you’re not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you’re not lonely without me

Society, have mercy on me
I hope you’re not angry if I disagree
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you’re not lonely without me

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What? You didn’t know I was a graveyard clown?!

True Stories are better than Fiction

My boots were made for walkin’… whether they’re the cowboy or Spanish…

If I sang, would you… sing with me?

Ring-around-the-Rosie
Pockets full of posies,

Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down.

She's Gidget. Roscoe was Grandpa.

Hi folks. I’ve been blogging since sometime in 1997—I don’t know where my original blog is, it was on Earthlink, Geocities or something like that—somewhere along the way I stopped blogging. Whereas once I was just an anonymous voice on the Internet—pre there even being such a word as “blogging”—now there was Google.

Going from anonymous to identified, I found myself scared to write anymore.

That era has ended.

I am Angela Baxley, the Spunky Gidget, a clown, from a family of clowns and a legacy of artists and humanitarians, rock n’ roll, and crazy Christians.

I’ll start telling the story. But I’m sorry, mostly it’ll be told how it unfolded, and at my own whimsy and whim. Published on the days that it happened, or as it should be dated by my own judgment.

I publish as Spunky Gidget as my alter identity, @ang @baxley are different personas. Ang, like the nickname, is intimate for my closest friends and family. Baxley is who I am, the one you all love and know. I have other web presences out there, and maybe over time I’ll even disclose those, the who, what, when and why of the identities. In any case, Spunky Gidget is what brought me to the Internet, and that’s how you’ll hear my voice.

That way Angela Baxley can keep her reputation intact, at least for a little while longer! 😉

"Give It Up for Gidget"

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Ancestry, Cannabis

Bubby

Randy at Hell's Point, Pokagon, Labor Day 2012

I am proud of my mother.

She challenged the authority when they told her that my uncle had six months to live.

In her heart, she knew better. In six weeks he was dead.

My mother didn’t fight the authority, there was no point. Either way, he’d be dead. Yet, my mother took her belief seriously. She rearranged her priorities, so that she could be with him not wanting to miss spending time with him while he still breathed.

My mother shared her belief with those of the family who would listen, and some believed what she, in faith, said. Because my mom is something of a natural nut, some chose to believe the word of the medical authority over what she so strongly believed.

My mother called us together, asking the family to gather, to spend time with him. The doctors had decreed his six months in July, my mom come and see him Memorial Day. I questioned my mother, asked her, is it Labor Day you mean? More than her words, I knew what she meant, what her belief would mean.

Schaadt's in Hell

Those of who believed, who took the health nut my momma seriously, took heed. The family all gathered, and the other side of the family hosted, the ones who take my mom seriously. Amid music and singing, children playing and sunflowers, my aunt and uncle (of that side of the family) offered Uncle Randy relief in the form of a weed. Though it’s not an appropriate natural remedy in my mother’s belief, it was thanks to God’s creation that he was able to join in the merriment, raising a guitar to his knee. Before that day, I never he knew that he could really play.

Uncle Randy

Later I confessed to my mother that she must know that the pleasure thanks to the leaves of a weed. I urged her to urge his caregiver to implore his doctor to prescribe him the prescription, mans form of God’s gift by the hand of their own authority. My aunt, the caregiver, and my mother agreed, though the need was plain to see, relief shouldn’t be obtained in the form of what they’d call “weed“, they apparently don’t approve whether relief is by a pill form prescription or by what he’d breath, or eat. I’d never make it home fast enough to see about sending him cookies.

That was the last day I’d really see him, that day watching the last of his life—more so than any other day I’d ever seen—as he laughed and he played and he drank and even sang. That night, still relieved, apparently was the last and only he’d really sleep. Later I here he spent hours dead to the world, but even a caregiver, I imagine if I am bold, will note the difference between succumbing to death and breathing easy in sleep.

All this is to say, that I’m proud of my mother and that though they’d say that he’d have six months in this life to remain. My mother, though others would think her insane, ignored the authority and in her campaign we thus would win the last few days we’d never get back again. Those who’d doubt totally missed out, but my mother made sure we had all the time with him that we could spend.

I think of my mother happy that she’d challenge authority. What they said she simply couldn’t believe. They say that ‘faith is the assured expectation of things not yet beheld’, and it takes faith to believe.

Had my mother held to her faith, and urged us to believe, I wouldn’t have seen my uncle and get to say goodbye, in not so many words, before he’d leave.

My dear parents, my sisters and my brother, I’m glad we all listened to our mother, listened to her, trusted, had faith and believed—even though we weren’t raised to question authority.

Momma didn’t try to fight the authority, and neither will I.

Momma at the Lake, Labor Day 2012

I believe that we’ll all obtain life, given the lives we live, when we die. The difference is simply the reward you’ll obtain, by what words we heed while in this life we remain. I think of Nikki, who momma’s words didn’t heed, she heard but didn’t listen, and by doubt missed out because it was the doctor’s she chose to believe. She said she’d see him later, and though in this life she was wrong, I imagine that one day the band will get back together, and we all will be there to sing along.

Grandpa, Me, and Uncle Randy

I hope that you’ll respect me, as I take my leave from believing what I was taught is the authority. I asked them questions they couldn’t answer, so I’ll believe what I read. The Word became flesh so that we could believe, and God left us a written record for us to read. He planted faith among us, a tiny little seed. Buried like our uncle and father, all it takes now to raise from up under is to read and believe! I will not try to uproot you from the soil you know, recalling God’s creation: seed, sun and water—we reap what we sow; a man planted, a man watered, but it was God that kept making it grow.

Then God said,

“I’ve given you every sort of seed-bearing plant on Earth And every kind of fruit-bearing tree, given them to you for food. To all animals and all birds, everything that moves and breathes, I give whatever grows out of the ground for food.”

And there it was.

God looked over everything he had made; it was so good, so very good!

It was evening, it was morning—Day Six. — Genesis 1

 

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Culture

(via YouTube – I Want You To Want Me / by Jonathan Harris and Sep Kamvar)

The interactive installation “I Want You To Want Me”, by Jonathan Harris and Sep Kamvar, commissioned by the Museum of Modern Art, for their “Design and the Elastic Mind” exhibition.

I Want You To Want Me explores the search for love and self in the world of online dating. It chronicles the world’s long-term relationship with romance, across all ages, genders, and sexualities, using real data collected from Internet dating sites every few hours.

The piece was presented on a 56” high-resolution touch-screen, hanging vertically on a wall, installed at MoMA on February 14, 2008, Valentine’s Day.

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Winter

Walking home from the cafe, I was enjoying the cool damp air. It wasn’t raining anymore, and that was a good thing because the rain here is “real” unlike that in Seattle.

I felt my spirit lift a little, a giddiness swelling, that thing that I suppose it what makes me “Spunky Gidget”. It’s the coolness. It’s fresh, a new season.

The cool air brings with it a strong desire to cuddle up as I dream of hibernation on the couch with movies and popcorn.

I dream of cabins in the snow where snow bunnies go when the slopes close for the night. Of snow fights ending in snuggles, and ultimately, the hot tub.

I long for warm kitchens and home cooking with friends. Sharing stories and laughter.

My spirit dropped again. It’s a cycle that’s repeated itself many times the past few days.

When I picture the couch, it’s a white couch with some sort of awful tapestry kind of thing going on. It’s entirely too short to stretch out. Instead, you’re always tangled and somehow invading in his space. I love that couch.

When I picture the sweat pants and sweat shirts that are the staples of our winter survival, I picture my grey yoga sweat pants, and a brown and tan striped hoodie which carries his scent, stronger on days he wore it back from the gym.

When I picture the kitchen, it’s Ryan King’s. And the laughter I hear belongs to him. He tilts his head back slightly and lifts his eyes with that ever present sparkle.

Is it even necessary to tell you how much I was looking forward to winter? It’s been a long hard year. The previous year, I dare say wasn’t much better. I survived so many dashed dreams, struggled through to crazy achievements, and made it out other side to San Francisco.

The past six months I wondered lost, confused, uncertain, letting go, and holding on. You held my hand, and walked at my pace.

I was really looking forward to winter.

I was really looking forward to you.

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Waiting

I guess I’m in a state of melancholy. Pensive thought. I’m not wishing away for the future to come, I’m not looking back on the past that was… I’m just here. Waiting.

As I wait it seems my dreams could be coming true right before my eyes. I don’t feel like I deserve any dreams coming true. And I’m afraid to believe in them because they may just be for a passing moment, not mine to keep. It’s the same approach I have to love – I’m working on believing in love, and dreams I’ll work on next.

I’m ready for the next chapter of my life story to begin. I have so much I’m happy for and I want to start building again. I guess I’ve passed some kind of unknowing pensiveness of the thought that stepping forward means leaving behind. I can step forward and I can bring my life, my love, my dreams with me. I am not two seperate entities. One with a life that ended a year ago, and the other that kept living. All my life experiences, they make up me, and make me the person I love.

I’m coming to much more,
Me.

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Missing you.

Well Jeep Boy, I miss you. I wish we could talk. I run when things get complicated and look for the simple. I just need a simple day. Monday is another day off of work. I’m not looking forward to it. Figuring out what to do with myself is miserable. I would be just fine if only I could just work Monday through Friday all the way through until I’m done with this. I don’t think I have another holiday for a while after this.

There are two kinds of the “worst loneliness imaginable” – and I know both of them.

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New Year’s

On January 1st, I was laying in bed trying to sleep. Was this the way things were supposed to be? Is this the way I should feel? In my heart I knew it wasn’t. I need my life back. I need to be the person I once was.

Barbara, a dear friend, and my mentor told me that I needed someone to take my hand. Someone to help me build this bridge and bring me across the moat. I am not alone. I have the offer of strength by the person who stands closest to me. I have silent resolution of hope from my once best friend. And from the one who once shared my life I have encouragement only he can offer at this time. Lastly, although most definitely not least I have one to turn to in prayer. With him anything is possible.

I don’t deny a conflict of emotions. My heart right now literally feels so heavy. The past two night I could only toss and turn as sleep fled from me. I long to be held in my dreams, to be loved unconditionally.

So here I am, ironically finding my resolve on the day that the world makes their resolutions. I pray for all the help and support that I can get. I pray that this time I make it. I now know all that I had, all that it was worth and how much I need that. I need to make that my focus, and not let go.

I wish that I had someone to turn to for moral encouragement. Someone who understands and can really push me everyday. My sister had her husband, and I’m sure that made it so much easier. But, I will keep reminding myself that the strongest person I know is only a whisper away.

Tonight I again pray for sleep.

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Walk away…

Well I just don’t know what to do. Choices are easy. Making them, and sticking to them are harder. I walk this world alone. I don’t think I have even been truly alone before.

People talk about inner strength, and finding “it” within yourself. Well I doubt those people have really been there. Having no one to turn to for support or strength, or encouragement. Not knowing where to find the motivation. Looking for just one person who can understand.
I have one who’ll listen, but can never be one with who I am. And I can’t find my way back to those who can.

I knew from the begining that there were differences to great to overcome. That old saying “sometimes love just isn’t enough”. I don’t think it’s a defect with love, I just think that we don’t allow ourselves to love where we are limited. We resist any limitations at all.

Funny thing about you and me- Where I find freedom, you see confinement.

So, here I am again. Back to the same place I’ve found myself so many times before… wondering how do I walk away?

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Reminder

“At times we aren’t volatile. I feel we couldn’t be more one. At other times I feel we are so volatile and there’s nothing I can do. I’m not asking for you to have the energy to fight for us. I’m not fighting against us. I’m not walking away quickly when I say time. I’m hoping that things work out for the best while we take a breather and hopefully we becomes closer. You have a strong loving conviction and it adds to my love for you. There’s a strength that one reaches though where I need you to be and it hurts me when I hurt you because you aren’t. We’ve had this happen several times including this morning.

That’s just something though. Thats not close to enough to make me stop loving you. What scares me deeply? That’s a good question and I don’t really know the answer. Everything I’d probably list here you’d tell me that I don’t know you so I won’t go into it to the fullest extent. Whether we are compatible types scares me. You have a lot of answers to the world and have been a lot of places and know a lot of people and that’s not what I want for my other half. I’m not really looking for someone to show the world to me. I’m afraid you aren’t soft-spoken enough for me and know the enjoyment that comes from silence even at the busiest times. I’m afraid I’m not going to entertain you enough because at this point in time I’m enjoying the lathargic life style of relaxing at home, playing some games perhaps, getting some work done, or just watching TV. These are just two or three of my thoughts that go on that point of whether we’re the right type for one another. On the counter we have many things we share and have in common so do not think I think of the glass as being half empty. What scares me…well I’m scared we aren’t right for one another and that our love will grow stronger and when more things go wrong it will rip me in half.”

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Music

Has she lost her mind?

I don’t think that she has, I think that she just needs time to figure out who she is and wants to be.

Who do you want to be?
WHAT do you want?
Maybe that’s a better question.

Has she lost her mind?

I remember thinking
I’ll go on forever only knowing
I’ll see you again

But I know
The touch of you is so hard to remember
But like that touch I know no other

And for sure we have danced
In the risk of each other
But we dance no longer.

I’ll be falling all about my own thing
And I know your the heaviest weight
When you’re not here that’s hung
Around my head

Sometimes we walk
Sometimes we run away
But I know
No matter how fast we are running
Somehow we keep up with each other

Or will we?

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10/15/2000

We stand so close
You and I.
You hold my hand
and we take off to fly.

The wind catches our wings
and as we start to soar
One of us looks down
and begins to doubt.

Our eyes are masked
our hearts not so far behind.
Such a struggle to let go
with each other…

Too much to lose?

So we enjoy where we stand
so close to each other.
Once again you’ll take my hand
and together we’ll soar.

10.15.2000

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Entirely, Louis Macneice

Entirely

If we could get the hang of it entirely
It would take too long;
All we know is the splash of words in passing
And falling twigs of song,
And when we eavesdrop on the great
Presences it is rarely
That by a stroke of luck we can appropriate
Even a phrase entirely
If we could find our happiness entirely
In somebody else’s arms
We should not fear the spears of spring nor the city’s
Yammering fire alarms
But, as it is, the spears each year go through
Our flesh and almost hourly
Bell or siren banishes the blue
Eyes of love entirely.
And if the world were black and white entirely
And all the charts were plain
Instead of a mad weir of tigerish waters,
A prism of delight and pain,
We might be surer where we wished to go
Or again we might be meremy
Bored but in brute reality there is no
Road that is right entirely.

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Music

Easy life.

She has lost her mind.

Hey my friend
It seems your eyes are troubled
Care to share your time with me
Would you say you’re feeling low and so
A good idea would be to get it off your mind

See you and me
Have a better time than most can dream
Have it better than the best
So we can pull on through
Whatever tears at us
Whatever holds us down
And if nothing can be done
We’ll make the best of what’s around

Turns out not where but who you’re with
That really matters
And hurts not much when you’re around
And if you hold on tight
To what you think is your thing
You may find you’re missing all the rest

Well she ran up into the light surprised
Her arms are open
Her mind’s eye is

Seeing things from a
Better side than most can dream
On a clearer road I feel
Oh you could say she’s safe
Whatever tears at her
Whatever holds her down
And if nothing can be done
She’ll make the best of what’s around

Turns out not where but what you think
That really matters
We’ll make the best of what’s around

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Music

Ryan

“Dave is a good song writer – here’s a couple lyrics I think apply.”

And in your eyes I see what’s on my mind
You’ve got me wild turned around inside
And then desire, see, is creeping up heavy inside here
And know you feel the same way I do now
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Just for tonight, one night…love you
And tomorrow say goodbye

It’s a typical situation
In these typical times
Too many choices
We can’t do a thing about it
Too many choices

Everybody asks me how she’s doing
Has she really lost her mind?
I said, I couldn’t tell you I’ve lost mine
I’m okay, I’m okay

Surprise, surprise you pay for what you get
You pay for what you get
Oh well oh well so here we stand
But we stand for nothing

How long I’m tied up My mind in knots –
My stomach reels In concern for what I might do or
What I’ve done It’s got me living in fear
But sometimes this thick confusion
Grows until I cannot bear it at all I let you down,
Oh, forgive me I have no lid upon my head
But if I did You could look inside and see what’s on my mind
How could I be such a fool like me oh, forgive me oh, forgive me

To the one who understands.

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Music

Soul mates.

I feel partly settled. Like I finally know what I want, and have the strength and courage to achieve it. It’s funny. I thought today I would lose. I didn’t.

Soul mates. n.
1. One of two persons compatible with each other in disposition, point of view, or sensitivity.
2. Someone for whom you have a deep affinity (a natural attraction or feeling of kinship)

I don’t know what to think about that. I don’t know how to feel about it. There so much I used to question. To examine, and analyze. Now I don’t. I just accept. I am guided by heart, rather than mind. It’s a much more peaceful way of being.

This is so new for me. Being content, I think. Being okay. What more can I say?
So maybe I won’t.

I have my path, I know what I need to do, and how to do it, and the way to get to where I’m going.
I used to think that going my way meant that I was walking away from something else. I guess I don’t see that anymore. Even if the natural inclination is to believe that we are losing. It’s not possible. Somehow. someway there is a connection. Something deeper than our comprehension. Farther than our definitions define. And that’s what hold us together.

It’s also amazing that I’m so content in the moment. So much of life is lived looking to the future or wistfully into the past.“The future is no place, to place your better days”. And so with that in mind, I live. Today.


There’s a moment lost in time
When she says hush
I’m on your side
It’s just the two of us
You know that I
You know I’ll never say goodbye

How many days can you waste it boy
It’s a shame they say
There’s so much you know he’ll never enjoy
All the love we come to destroy

There’s a moment lost in time
When she says hush
I’m on your side
It’s just the two of us
Though they might try


angela

someone’s always coming around here trailing some new kill
says I seen your picture on a hundred dollar bill
and what’s a game of chance to you, to him is one of real skill
so glad to meet you
angela
picking up the ticket shows there’s money to be made
go on and lose the gamble that’s the history of the trade
you add up all the cards left to play to zero
and sign up with evil
angela
don’t start me trying now
‘cos I’m all over it
angela
I could make you satisfied in everything you do
all your ‘secret wishes’ could right now be coming true
and be forever with my poison arms around you
no-one’s gonna fool around with us
no-one’s gonna fool around with us
so glad to meet you
angela

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Simple thoughts & explainations

Still tumbling through thoughts.

Isn’t it like me,
To want to say,
Things I can’t explain in simple ways?

Why should I be sane?
Why can’t I be crazy?

Sometimes I’m up,
Sometimes I’m down,
I choke on words, and make no sound.
Sometimes.

Why is it so hard,
To know myself?
Underneath this skin you’ll find, someone else.

Don’t be so suprised,
When you look inside me,
(inside me)

Sometimes It’s black,
Sometimes It’s white,
You hide behind electric light,
Sometimes.

Sometimes I swear,
Sometimes I pray,
Suddenly the guilty dissobey,
Sometimes.

Sometimes I’m weak,
Sometimes I’m strong,
Living with the fear I don’t belong,
Sometimes.

Sometimes I stand,
Sometimes I fall,
I throw myself against the wall,
Sometimes.

Sometimes I sink,
Sometimes I swim,
Tell me why my world is caving in,
Sometimes.

Sometimes it’s sweet,
Sometimes it’s raw,
Trying to get so high, like I did before,
Sometimes.

Sometimes in love,
Sometimes in hate,
Sometimes it’s all a big mistake,
Sometimes.

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Music

Irreconcilable differences.

ir·rec·on·cil·a·ble – adj.

Impossible to reconcile: irreconcilable differences.

n.
1. A person, especially a member of a group, who will not compromise, adjust, or submit.
2. One of two or more conflicting ideas or beliefs that cannot be brought into harmony.

I am torn.

I thought I saw a man brought to life,
He was warm, he came around like he was dignified,
He showed me what it was to cry,
Well, you couldn’t be that man I adored.
You don’t seem to know, seem to care, what your heart is for,
But I don’t know him anymore,
There’s nothing where he used to lie,
My conversation has run dry,
That’s what’s goin’ on. Nothing’s fine I’m torn…

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