Every finger in the room is pointing at me
I want to spit in their faces, but I get afraid of what that could bring
I’ve got a bowling ball in my stomach, got a desert in my mouth
Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now
I’ve been looking for a savior in these dirty streets
Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets
I’ve been raising up my hands, drive another nail in
Just what God needs: One more victim
Why do we crucify ourselves?
Every day I crucify myself
Nothing I do is good enough for you, and my heart is sick of being in chains.
Luke, do we all crucify ouselves?
I do some.
Nothing you do is good enough for who(m)?
The Perfectionist Parental Voice on loop tape?
(amplified by our Galloping Hunger to be Loved?
Another?
The Finger-Pointers? Sheep reinforcing their (lame) identity by flocking aginst an outsider.
Hold in there, gifted one.
Love
Tony
Hugs to Luke!!
(That was always one of my favorite “I’m feeling down” Tori songs.)
It’s hard, though, when you’re sort of your own enemy. Your self is the one critic you can’t shake, that you can’t ignore.
Not sure what you’re going through, but hope it passes soon or resolves itself satisfactorily.
Or, if you just loved the pic and stuck the lyrics to it for artistic reasons–right on!
Peggy’s closest to the truth…
Also, if any of my readers has the photoshop skill to take that photo and make it look like I’m nailed to a wooden cross, please do. I want to see that.