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Drew Danburry
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Jerry Spinelli and Patricia Polacco or Every Moment of Every Day We Are Faced With the Decision as to Whether We Will C
I lost my faith, in things I believed in, and I lost my hope, to be found.
Among those who praise, a glorious credence, and patiently wait, for things floating down.
It's brackish and plain, so figure it out yourself, we're all churning limbs in a deep pool.
And I will be made into, whatever you see fit, but how I see myself ain't designed by you.
So lift that weight and set it on shoulders, of all your loved ones and strangers alike.
And boy what a burden, your presence causes, to expect what surrounds you to be how you like.
Spurn all advances and gaslight the ones who care, stay up in that building there's plenty of room.
Keep me locked in quarters, with no chance of breathing in, the fault is all mine, I helped build it too.
(It's) an ironclad folklore, so blighted by barren failure, nevertheless we're swimming with sheep.
(It's) a feckless parade paired with histrionic commentators, a squalid tradition of foppish belief.
And never a thought is taken to leave, cause to fix what we've wronged is embarrassing.
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