Your Expensive Prize
Heartbeating thunder in my chest
My heart!
Search it. See it. Know my heart.
Let it be clear as clean glass if it holds evil
If it holds mischief and pain
If it is filled with ill will and lies.
My heart holds pride and honor
FOR YOU!
And who are you?
Like a blue ribbon cock at the fair
You puff your chest at me.
You wave your tricks at me.
Your prizes of trinkets that you got from a carnie
after you paid dollar after dollar
Until you won.
Ah, I long for the day your tricks run out!
And I fight my own heart
to stay pure and not to hate you.
But by not hating you, it's as if I'm permitting you.
You and your feathers and toys and all that I hate.
Do I hate you, or the tricks you wave at me?
The stupid tricks that I have seen so many times
From so many others
Each who don't know the other
But who all sing the same songs to me.
These songs!
I hate these songs!
Who brought these songs?
Where do they come from
this endless supply of the same horrible tune
Stop singing it to me!
I HATE IT.
So, dear sir, that is it
It might not be you
You are singing this song
Probably to your trinkets
and your toys
You probably hate your prizes more than I do
And that, dear friend (who I mustn't hate)
Is probably why you are singing this horrible song
To me.
My heart!
Search it. See it. Know my heart.
Let it be clear as clean glass if it holds evil
If it holds mischief and pain
If it is filled with ill will and lies.
My heart holds pride and honor
FOR YOU!
And who are you?
Like a blue ribbon cock at the fair
You puff your chest at me.
You wave your tricks at me.
Your prizes of trinkets that you got from a carnie
after you paid dollar after dollar
Until you won.
Ah, I long for the day your tricks run out!
And I fight my own heart
to stay pure and not to hate you.
But by not hating you, it's as if I'm permitting you.
You and your feathers and toys and all that I hate.
Do I hate you, or the tricks you wave at me?
The stupid tricks that I have seen so many times
From so many others
Each who don't know the other
But who all sing the same songs to me.
These songs!
I hate these songs!
Who brought these songs?
Where do they come from
this endless supply of the same horrible tune
Stop singing it to me!
I HATE IT.
So, dear sir, that is it
It might not be you
You are singing this song
Probably to your trinkets
and your toys
You probably hate your prizes more than I do
And that, dear friend (who I mustn't hate)
Is probably why you are singing this horrible song
To me.