My time is ripe but my hour is dim--there is poison in my bone.
My swell is clean then I crash and burn and my thoughts stand naked, alone.
Oh my thoughts they look a lot like fears, a lot like trails, a lot like tears
--fleeting moments and hopeful years!
My time is bitter but my hour is sweet--I'm a wretch in the lap of peace.
My creep is frail and my coat is shedding; scaley skin in painful release.
Oh my thoughts they come disguized as sages, disguised as lovers; freaking golden cages!
--choking ideas, battles of the ages.
Oh that I would take them captive, instead they trap me behind bars.
Oh to feel the earth beneath me and grasp at life under the stars!
For there my lines were sewn and written, welded in their shining rock.
And there Love gave me all His blessing when I wailed for the breath of God.
Oh my thoughts they sound a lot like questions, a lot like shouting, a lot like digestion
--patient processing of information!
Oh that I would take them captive and plunge them in the deepest sea!
For then I think I could discover why God ever thought of me.
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