Rusty (About Ready to Give Up)
(A ‘maybe song’, [i.e. when I get around to it]. Inspired after rehearsing with a cut on my finger. Yep… it’s *that* profound)
I’m not comfortable around people
All the users; all the sheeple.
I’d truly be a hermit if I could.
But, for the health of my own spirit,
I force myself do it,
And, maybe, even, try to do some good.
Been a liar, been a cheat-
A fool set on ‘repeat’;
These legs have limped through many layers of hell.
I’m consistent in relationships
In that they’re all now sunken ships,
(I think, perhaps, that’s prob’ly just as well…).
But, don’t tell me I’m not doing my part
With all my soul and mind and heart,
Confronting all the shit that each day brings.
With my old guitar and faltering voice,
I scribe because I have no choice.
(Believe me, that’s not ‘rust’ on my strings…)
Divisions within divisions;
Hatred and derisions,
Manufactured rifts and pointless schisms;
Question are now a crime –
Better get your thoughts in line.
Does self-worth only come from being a victim?
But, don’t tell me I’m insensitive
That my views are oh-so-primitive
When you prioritise your symptoms over cause.
In your angry, little bands
You’re playing right into their hands…
(And, no,that’s not ketchup on my fretboard).
Let’s find what we have in common
Instead of venting at those strawmen…
Drop your costumes and your labels
And let’s kick the legs out from the table…
…And I’ll continue smithing words
And pounding out those chords…
…’Cos, while we’re pointing at each other
They’re sneaking in their Biggest Brother…
…Leave those thousand flags unpinned
Let them reap the full whirlwind…
(…Then I can finally stop.
And change these bloody strings.)