Everyone says I’m getting down too low
Everyone says: “You just gotta let it go”
“You just gotta let it go”
I just gotta let it go
Once I saw a man stopping by a trash can as we were walking in the same direction. I had just gotten out of Gilson’s Latin American Philosophy course when this happened. Because it’s strange to see this, I stopped and looked. Inside the can was a possum scratching to get out. The man asked me to help him take it out but I refused to help, frightened of getting bitten. He did it alone. As we were walking way, I asked him how he thought the critter got in there. He said it was trying to get food. How did was it that it could get in but not out? And these words have stuck with me ever since, he said, “Sometimes it’s easier to get in than out.”
Believing only in what is not of this world, he pretends to be in reality. He plays a game, but openly, so that it is not believed that he plays it. He pretends twice. And once again: a part of him really is attached to the flesh, to pleasures, to power.
Turn the page. What happened? Wasn’t I supposed to do something with my life? What have I accomplished? Sure, I’ve got a college degree, but without a steady job, that means shit. I write. Yeah, I write and write and write. And then I edit. I let others edit. I show it to old college professors. I get my nerve but I never send them out. Pieces forever laid on the floor and forgotten.
You want to know what’s wrong with me. I’m afraid of being human. I’m afraid of being simple. I’m afraid of loving again. I’m afraid of dying. I’m afraid of myself. I’m afraid of Jyg. I’m afraid of Philosopher. I’m afraid of words. I’m afraid of being wrong. I’m afraid that I’ve fallen into this hole and I can’t get out. I’m afraid that Jenn’s right. I’m afraid that I’m never going to amount to anything. I’m afraid I can’t live up to the responsibilities of life. I’m afraid that I’ll fail as a father. I’m afraid that I’ll never have children of my own and I will always have to borrow my friends, my nieces and nephews. I’m afraid of growing old. I’m afraid of dying in a crash. I’m afraid of driving. I’m afraid that I’ll choke on stage. I’m afraid that my words are ineffective I’m afraid of being alive. I’m afraid of crying way too much. I’m afraid of the lyrics. I’m afraid of just being…
I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie
I have my freedom but I don’t have much time
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Lets do some living after we die
Sometimes, it seems, I shouldn’t have even said a single word in my life. And then, maybe then, things wouldn’t be so fucked up in my head.