Some day I'm going to know some things
Some day I won't just sit around and wonder why
Some day I'll find out where it hurts and cut that out
And hold it in my hand
And squash it slowly into mush
And throw it in a can, and close the lid
And then I'll introduce myself to me
And take an inventory of the things I need
Brain? One, slightly used.
You know the rest
Until I get down to the heart
Then, we'll have a great debate
"He has a heart, I see it there."
"But look, it's empty, black inside."
"But it's a heart."
"But such a mess."
"One heart, scarcely beating, near it's death.
And I will know the things to say to others
That will make them whole
"Why just love yourself, son."
"That's what you should do....love yourself."
"You'll heal right up."
"And life will be a piece of cake from this time forth."
I'll like it being smart like that.
And men will come from miles around to find their answers in my brain.
And I will tell them this and that.
And, oh, how wonderful it will be.
Until one man says,
"Say, aren't you him?"
"Aren't you the one, you know that one?"
"The one whose father could not love him?"
And I will answer, "No, not him."
"Never him. He's much too sick. Too injured."
"Him? No, he died years ago."
And go on with my ruse a time or two.
And then, I'll turn my head and go away
For though I could cure all their ills
Make them happy
Tell them the right things to do,
I was not ever smart enough to heal myself.
I'm healing now, and I wasn't sure I would.