Is it the stairs creaking beneath my feet or have my knees grown too weak? Are the walls closing in on me or can I just not breathe? When I was twelve I cut my elbow on the glass of a broken window. I climbed through anyway. I would not be swayed from curiosity. I want to see myself that way just one more time. I want responsibility, or at least to see the sun. Staring deeply into a cup of cold tea, at a rippled reflection, a muddled memory. I am not the young man that I used to be. When did this happen to me? How could this happen to me? At times I feel like my feet are stuck to the floor, like these limbs don’t even belong to me anymore. And though I’ve not completely lost faith in the lord, I wish he’d show me the light or show me to the door.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
