Category Archives: Poetry

Eyes Open

In loving memory of George Williamson, 1945-2021

After my father passed away in September, I had a couple of days where it felt like I had to just chin up and keep going through life and certain responsibilities. We got the call on a Saturday morning, and it wasn’t until Tuesday night that I could finally sit down at the piano to pour out my heart a bit without feeling like I had something else to prepare for or occupy my mind.

I played for a little bit, thinking of the song I had written for my father (which I was fortunate enough to share with him in July).

As I played, I considered what it must be like to respond to that invitation to “take My hand” — what it must be like after years of declining health for my Dad to suddenly find himself in a body not merely restored or healed, but upgraded into eternal glory.

I thought of the hallucinations that terrified him at times… the weakness and shaking in his limbs from Parkinson’s disease… the withered legs of the man who used to sprint down the street racing against my brother and me…

For the faithful, to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord… and what a tremendous joy that must be.

I didn’t get to share this one with my Dad, obviously. I only got to imagine what it was like for him to open his eyes to wonders and splendor beyond our comprehension.

Maybe one day, he’ll tell me his side of the story. I can’t wait to hear how much better it was than what I pictured.

Maybe it won’t matter, because we’ll have better things to do.

Until then, Dad.

Eyes Open

You take His hand
And your grip is strong and firm again like His
Rise to your feet
And your legs feel like they’d outrun space and time
Open your eyes
To the wonders of the sights more real
Than any of this world you left behind

Awoken
To Heaven
Eyes open
True living

There’s no more pain
In a body uncorrupted by decay
No darkness remains
All the fearful visions scattered in the day
Trembling now
Only when you’re filled with wonder
At the majesty and glory on display

Awoken
To Heaven
Eyes open
True living
Arisen
In splendor
Eyes open
Forever

I can hardly imagine all the suffering you went through
I can’t understand what all the pain was like for you
But I take comfort in the thought of what it must mean
To be made complete and new
And that one day I’ll join you

Awoken…

To look upon the face
Of the One in whose image you were made

Take My Hand is the song I wrote for my father before he passed, and a “prequel” to this song.

Take My Hand

In loving memory of George Williamson, 1945-2021

Back in July, I received an unexpected call from my Mom. Actually, I kind of expected a call from her — we had sent her copies of her memoir that I edited and published on Amazon KDP, and when I saw her number, I assumed she’d gotten the package.

“David,” she said, “Dad’s ‘transitioning.'”

I didn’t know what that meant. (It turns out, that meant that his gradually declining health due to Parkinson’s was likely taking a sharp turn for the worse.)

I didn’t know how long he had left. (No one did. When I spoke with his primary nurse, she said it could be a week, or it could be months.)

I didn’t know what to expect or if I could even get to him in time. He had already been confined to a sick bed, needing oxygen and almost complete assistance with anything physical.  He had been suffering hallucinations. He wasn’t able to keep food down, and his skin color was changing in a bad way.

I got my ticket and worked out time off from the company, but all of the unanswered questions and unknowns occupied my mind. As I usually do in those times, I sat at the piano and started playing my feelings, expressing the jumble of confusion and concern that I couldn’t put into words.

Memories came together and stood out — interactions with my Dad that shaped the rest of my life.

I wrote this song just before flying home, and was able to share it with my Dad in person. My Mom used it as part of my Dad’s celebration of life after he passed in September.

For those who have lost someone, I hope it’s a comfort.  In Christ we grieve, but with profound hope. (1 Thess 4:13)

Rest in peace, Dad.

Take My Hand

I remember walking down the railroad tracks
The Bible says train up a child, oh how you loved to joke ‘bout that
And I’d always try to balance on the rail
But I’d stumble or I’d slip or find some other way to fail
Then I’d hear you say

Take my hand, son
You can hold on
I’ll keep you up when you can’t do it on your own
Set your eyes on the horizon
Step by step, Let’s see just how far you can go
Until it’s time to head on home

I remember when I struck out on my own
My new job would take me far from everyone I’ve loved or known
In a panic I remember calling you
Cause I didn’t want to go, I didn’t know what I should do
Then I heard you say,

Take God’s hand, son
Then just hold on
He’ll keep you up when you can’t do it on your own
Set your eyes on the horizon
In His steps You’ll see just how far you can go
Until you make a place your home

And we both’ve had our share of falls and stumbles on the way,
But the love and grace of Jesus never falters, never fades
Until the day the shadows of the valley of death dissipate
And you see His face
And you hear your Savior say

Take My hand, son
You can hold on
I’ll raise you up Into a new life of your own
Set your eyes on the horizon
Where golden streets Lead to a glory-blazing throne
My son, it’s time, come on let’s go
Well done, and welcome to your home

Note: After my father passed in September, I wrote a follow-up to this song, imagining the other side of that first experience of Heaven.

This Old House

I paid my parents a visit recently after a number of years overseas, first as a military member and then as a contractor. Because I live on Okinawa, visits are far less frequent than I would like.

My father has been dealing with Parkinson’s Disease for several years now, and each time I’ve visited, it’s been a surprise to see the impact to his condition. Some years ago, it was relatively small – the involuntary shaking of his hand or the quivering of his lip. Then, more recently, there was weight loss, weakness, frailty, difficulty speaking.

For most of this year, as I understand it, my father has been confined to a bed. Cared for by my mother, my brother, and a team of hospice nurses and assistants who visit briefly every weekday. I was unprepared for the extent of his decline, even though I was rushing home to spend time with him for fear that his condition might worsen. Now he fights with hallucinations and has moments where he can’t hold down food.

Spending time with him reminiscing and interacting was deeply meaningful and important, even while it drove home how much he has changed from the physically strong man I looked up to as a child. Sitting with him, holding his hand and comforting him through a hallucination, shook me.

I know it’s often a natural cycle. The parents take care of the children who grow up to take care of the parents. (Really, my brother and his family have borne that responsibility, and I’m grateful.)

That it’s natural and common doesn’t make it easier.

During this visit, we also stopped by our old house, which is in the process of being sold and renovated. Some months ago, my brother and his wife got a condo close to them for my parents to live in, so the old house is emptied of almost everything of value except the memories.

The piano I learned to play on growing up is still there. My dad’s train set that he spent years building is still there in the basement next to my old room. The backyard is a shaded refuge under the trees we planted as saplings in our youth, which now stand tall in the sky.

There was a bittersweet parallel that I couldn’t ignore.

This old house,
A home for many decades,
Still standing,
But advanced in years,
Dented, damaged, 
Declining, nearly forgotten, 
Seemingly abandoned.

Hair disheveled like the grass, 
Long and swaying in the breeze
Limbs and muscles weary, bruised,
Cracked and crumbling 
Like the walls and stairs, 
Weakened from years of use.

Hands and arms shaking, trembling, 
Unable to hold their grip;
Pieces of loose and broken tile
Sliding about with each passing step.
Skin splotched and stretched thin,
Wallpaper torn and hanging, 
Discolored yet still warm
With better memories back then.

Struggling to maintain control,
And humbled by inability to do so,
A flooded basement warping the wood walls.
The creaking floorboards and supports
Like crackling of aged joints
That have borne more than their share 
Over many months and years. 

Stuffy air lingering throughout the house,
Stagnant, damp, a little off,  
Like ragged, labored breathing
And a respirator’s constant sound.
Every room emptied of all but frames 
Of furniture beyond repair 
Places once filled with so much life,
Now stripped and bare.
This house no longer feels like a home. 

But the outward appearance doesn’t tell
One’s history and significance over a lifetime,
Just as the frail body of an elder 
Reveals nothing of their deeds and exploits
In their prime.

Once these creaking floors that sigh
Echoed with pitter-patter footfalls
And the nurturing love of a mother
Quick to answer her child’s cries. 
Once these walls resounded, stirred 
With the laughter of children And the stern 
but loving guidance of a father.
Once the sturdy bricks and doors
Held safe a family, like strong arms
That stretched and joined 
And formed a covering
Like the interwoven branches 
Of the towering trees
That form a canopy of shade
And comforting peace
Once the keys of the dusty piano
Rang out with delight, 
Clear and strong
And filled the house with joy,
Poured out from hearts full of song.

To look at it now, 
This house doesn’t seem like much. 
In disrepair and discomfort.
Ready to be repossessed. 
But there is One who sees beyond 
What earthly eyes and thoughts assess 
Who knows the value, holds the deed,
And cherishes what He purchased.

This house may seem in shambles now
But the real renovation is nearly done
Beyond the veil, a Builder waits 
With the keys to a glorious mansion
The One who truly buys and flips
The worst of run-down properties 
Who turns their rubble into gold,
Disgraces into testimonies,
Who gathers up the ruins and
From ashes draws forth beauty
Safe and stately far beyond 
The hand of decay or disease. 
Broken structures He rebuilds
Remakes, revives, restores, until 
Souls stand alight with glory filled 
Before the Throne; their voices tell,
With faith made sight, yes, it is well. 

House of Mirrors

Everywhere I turn I see eyes looking back at me
Everything I learned wasn’t enough to keep me free
Now I’m getting what I’ve earned in betting on duplicity
Spreading wide the curtains on what I don’t want to see

Step into the house of mirrors
Unsteady in this atmosphere
I’m standing up to all my fears
They said that I’m not welcome here

But I built every corner of this place
I felt every contorted face
I made every distorted shape
Never dealt with this unsorted rage

Now it spills out each time I engage
With the ways that I’m flawed
My reflections all looking odd
My reactions never what they ought to be

I keep doing this, I can’t stop hurting me
And this pain is affecting my family
Repetition, re-action, the same old scene,
Mental playlist is shuffled and on repeat
Bloody tracks leading right back to my own feet
I’m attacking the past and the memories
But the mirrors are all cackling at me

I stumble through the endless maze
Troubled
by each restless gaze
Crumbling
inside, quivering,
My pain doubled in the eyes
Of each shimmering face

The voices will not go away
The whispers all hiss, never fade
The slideshow is set on replay
With every regret on display
This
is where I stay
This is my every day
There are no words to say,
Only hurts that still remain,

Wounds I caused, I can’t explain
What I’ve done to cause you pain
Every image glaring at me with the same
Expression, staring with disdain

Everywhere I turn I see eyes looking back at me
Everything I learned wasn’t enough to keep me free
Now I’m getting what I’ve earned in betting on duplicity
Spreading wide the curtains on what I don’t want to see

I feel cold metal in my hand
And wrap my fingers around
A bat, a crowbar
Anything to beat this down
And in my head I start to swinging
At each reflection that I’m seeing

Break the glass, it’s an emergency
I shattered all of my history
Scattered
all I had that meant something
And yet the past is catching up with me
Mad
der at myself than I should be
Or so they say in therapy
But I think that they ain’t hearin’ me

The hate isn’t a mystery
Because it’s always here in me
Wanna see?
What face am I supposed to be?
Calling all these “me-rears”
‘Cause they’re looking back at me

What version of myself
Should I take down off the shelf
Dust it off
, put it on like a mask
Trust is lost, and I can’t get it back

What it costs is too much, I can’t ask it
I been caustic like rust, nothing lasting
Long enough, I’m corrosive like acid
Going off like explosives, bombastic
And I ran right through all of my chances
All these visions of me look askance
In this prison of mirrors and answers
To the questions around which I dance

In every piece of glass I see eyes looking back at me
With every swing I shatter who I thought that I could be
Now I’m getting to the matter of the hurt I buried deep
And I’m flicking on the lighter pouring out the gasoline

I stepped into the house of mirrors
So sick and tired of seeing unclear
I set a fire to all my fears
And threw out all my souvenirs

My heel falls upon the broken shards
And what remains of who we are
I feel all we will remember
Is lost to lie in dust and embers

Sides

I’d like to think that I maintain an open mind
Or at least I am not shy to take in what I find
But no matter how I’ve tried to see a view larger than mine
“It seems like you have picked a side,”
They say of me sometimes.

The comment leaves me wondering,
Who determined what sides exist?
Who set up the boundaries?
When did they announce all this?
Maybe there’s some information,
some important tweet I missed
That settles the determination
Of who’s for and who’s against
And what the issue really is.

In life it seems that so few things
Are cut so clear as A or B
But so many refuse to choose
To see all these complexities
And so we shout down any views
With which we feel we disagree
And paint them not as they communicate
But as unsafe extremes

It’s easier to reject than it is to reflect
It’s easier to ignore than it is to learn more
It’s easier to smear or sneer than take the time to truly hear
It’s easier to shut out than to pause and think about
And while I’d like to think that my own views are still quite fair
I must admit, I’ve found a side that I would like to share.

I choose the side that says the ones we authorize
To handle lethal force while risking their own lives
Should be respected, yes, of course,
But it should come as no surprise
That those trained and equipped with more
Would have a standard strict and high

I choose the side that sees a disconcerting pattern
Of deadly tragedies and lives that should’ve mattered
Dying doing things that I and my kids can do every day
Like driving,
gaming,
jogging,
sleeping,
going to the park to play.

I choose the side not satisfied to look some other ways,
Who don’t decide that they’re just tired of Facebook posts on race
Who don’t reply with “What about—” deflecting conversation
Who won’t sit silent with their doubts and worries for our nation
Who call out the hypocrisy when one side does what’s wrong
When just a few years earlier they sang a different song

I choose the side that says that we can look at more than one
Issue that’s dividing us from what we could get done.
We don’t have to act like we can only focus on one problem
When there’s plenty we could do if as a group we tried to solve ‘em

I choose the side that says we ought try to empathize
I think it’s worth a thought to see the struggle from another’s eyes

I choose the side that says that I know I don’t have it figured out
But listening to different voices and learning to shut my mouth
Has made some space for growth and maybe even fostered doubt
Where compassion and humility can find some fertile ground

I choose the side that doesn’t jump to find justification
And lose my mind when I see facts enduring alteration—
Obscured interpretation of a hurtful situation
And the sure perpetuation of unfounded allegation
And immediate assumption of some disqualification
That allows us to negate the arguments and proof we’re facing—
“Why, any lie is better than to be confronted by
The possibility that I could have to change my mind!”

It was not too long ago that I suppose I chose a side
When I watched all those before my eyes start drawing battle lines
When they dug their trenches and, with thoughts of war preoccupied,
They hunkered down into the ideologies they fortified

I recall an ancient tale of a city become battleground
One army huddled in their walls, the other army circled ‘round
Their leader then encountered one who called himself Commander
And he questioned this Newcomer with a single-minded manner
“Are you for us, or for our enemies,” he asked
“Neither,” came the answer that he never would’ve guessed

We might think it’s binary, every issue black and white,
Only options A or B, there’s a wrong and there’s a right
But I shall not be beholden to this warlike apparatus
And I will not offer loyalty to those seeking more status

Those who walk with certainty that it’s their camp that God inhabits
Think it fair to challenge me, “Why have you turned your anger at us?”

I do not stand my ground with pride, but I consider this:
I do not claim, “God’s on my side,” but ask, “Am I on His?”

Sides

I’d like to think that I maintain an open mind
Or at least I am not shy to take in what I find
But no matter how I’ve tried to see a view larger than mine
“It seems like you have picked a side,”
They say of me sometimes.

The comment leaves me wondering,
Who determined what sides exist?
Who established the boundaries?
When did they announce all this?
Maybe there’s some information,
Some important tweet I missed
That settles the determination
of who’s for and who’s against
And what the issue really is.

In life it seems that so few things are cut so clear as A or B
But so many refuse to choose to see all these complexities
And so we shout down any views with which we feel we disagree
And paint them not as they communicate but as unsafe extremes

It’s easier to reject than it is to reflect
It’s easier to ignore than it is to learn more
It’s easier to smear or sneer than take the time to truly hear
It’s easier to shut out than to pause and think about
And while I’d like to think that my own views are still quite fair
I must admit, I’ve found a side that I would like to share.

I choose the side that says the ones we authorize
to handle lethal force while risking their own lives
Should be respected, yes, of course,
But it should come as no surprise
That those trained and equipped with more
Would have a standard strict and high

I choose the side that sees a disconcerting pattern
of deadly tragedies and lives that should’ve mattered
Dying doing things that I and my kids can do every day
Like driving, gaming, jogging, sleeping, going to the park to play.

I choose the side not satisfied to look some other ways,
Who don’t decide that they’re just tired of Facebook posts on race
Who don’t reply with “What about—” deflecting conversation
Who won’t sit silent with their doubts and worries for our nation
Who call out the hypocrisy when one side does what’s wrong
When just a few years earlier they sang a different song

I choose the side that says that we can look at more than one
Issue that’s dividing us from what we could get done.
We don’t have to act like we can only focus on one problem
When there’s plenty we could do if as a group we tried to solve ‘em

I choose the side that says we ought try to empathize
I think it’s worth a thought to see the struggle from another’s eyes
I choose the side that says that I know I don’t have it figured out
But listening to different voices and learning to shut my mouth
Has made some space for growth and maybe even fostered doubt
Where compassion and humility can find some fertile ground

I choose the side that doesn’t jump to find justification
And lose my mind when I see facts enduring alteration,
Obscured interpretation of a hurtful situation
And the sure perpetuation of unfounded allegation
And immediate assumption of some disqualification
That allows us to negate the arguments and proof we’re facing
“Why, any lie is better than to be confronted by
The possibility that I could have to change my mind!”

It was not too long ago that I suppose I chose a side
When I watched all those before my eyes start drawing battle lines
When they dug their trenches and, with thoughts of war preoccupied,
They hunkered down into the ideologies they fortified

I recall an ancient tale of a city become battleground
One army huddled in their walls, the other army circled ‘round
Their leader then encountered one who called himself commander
And he questioned this newcomer with a single-minded manner
“Are you for us, or for our enemies,” he asked
“Neither,” came the answer that he never would’ve guessed

We might think it’s binary, every issue black and white,
Only options A or B, there’s a wrong and there’s a right
But I shall not be beholden to this warlike apparatus
And I will not offer loyalty to those seeking more status
Those who walk with certainty that it’s their camp that God inhabits
Think it fair to challenge me, “Why have you turned your anger at us?”

I do not stand my ground with pride, but I consider this:
I do not claim, “God’s on my side,” but ask, “Am I on His?”

Treading Water

Some days it all piles on me, I feel like I’m drowning
Can’t see the light from the depth of the pit that I’m down in
Sometimes I find it too hard – to do what I oughtta
Seems like the best I can do is keep treading water

I don’t know if I am moving the goalposts,
Or learning the rules of the game.
No surprise, ‪they don’t give points out for almost,
But they sure know how to point out the blame.
‪Not certain if I’m laughing or crying,
After a while it starts feelin’ the same.
‪Heart hurtin’, make a living by dying
Just a little day by day, it’s a shame

They all wanna talk about purpose
Make it sound like we all deserve it
But the fact is that we gotta earn it
And the story now becomes a burden
When it seems there’s a valley between
Who we are and we wanted to be
What we hope for and what we see
What we live through and what we believe
What we try doing and what we achieve

All of these dreams over which we grieve
All the memories and wake that we leave
They tell us it’s our legacy
Woven together like tapestry
But I feel more like it’s unraveled
When I see how little I have traveled
Toward the goals that were laid out for me
More like floating out here in the sea

Some days it all piles on me, I feel like I’m drowning
Can’t see the light from the depth of the pit that I’m down in
Sometimes I find it too hard – to do what I oughtta
Seems like the best I can do is keep treading water

‘Round and ‘round I go
When can I stop? I don’t know
When I finally drop, maybe? No
Maybe then I’ll find rest for my soul
Maybe then it’ll all come together
At the end I won’t worry ‘bout whether
Who I am is ever gonna measure
Up to the standard I treasure

Maybe then I will finally get it
What it means to have life and to live it
How His grace took my sin to forgive it
How my slate is now clean, can’t forget it
Maybe then I can finally stop runnin’
And the demon within will be done in
And the glory I’ll see will be stunning
With my gaze on the face of the Son In
That place that He promised will come
When this world and its troubles are done
But for now He said He gives me peace
While I’m floating out here in the seas

Some days it all piles on me, I feel like I’m drowning
can’t see the light from the depth of the pit that I’m down in
Sometimes I find it too hard – to do what I oughtta
That’s when I reach out for You where You’re walkin’ on water

But seeing the wind, he became frightened, and cried out, “Lord, save me!”
Immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and took hold of him, and said to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

My Place

As I contemplate Good Friday, and the sacrifice of Christ for the sins of the world, I thought it would be a good day to post this hymn I wrote a few weeks back.

You saw my weak and helpless state
My suffering under heavy chains
For Your name’s sake You did not wait
But took my place and bore my shame
The King of Glory scorned of men
Whose every breath belongs to Him
Yet in my sin You loved me still
And took my place upon that hill

The spotless Lamb who knew no sin
Drew down the justice meant for me
And all my guilt was laid on Him
The burden of iniquity
To You the cup of wrath did come
And crying out, You drank its dregs
And in my place Your body hung
And there You died and bowed Your head

Blessing and honor and glory be
To the One who alone is worthy
The Lamb who was slain
Name above all names
Jesus Christ, the King of kings.

You saw my full depravity
Yet looked with mercy on my need
The King came in humility
And took my place upon the tree
You bore my curse, You took God’s wrath
Reserved for me, now I can stand
In wondrous praise upon the path
From Calvary to Promised Land

Now I will bow and sing the praise
Of You who died and rose again
God’s Only Son, High Priest who saves
I’ll stand amazed and fully cleansed
Worthy of more than words can say
Be glorified eternally
I come before the throne of grace
And take my place knelt at Your feet

Blessing and honor and glory be
To the One who alone is worthy
The Lamb who was slain
Name above all names
Jesus Christ, the King of kings.

Though sun may set, and night consume
The light of hope, replaced with gloom,
The dawn will split the darkness soon.
And though in death, they thought Him doomed,
The Son arose, and from the tomb
Eternal rest and life now bloom.

Sunday is coming.

Wishing you all a safe and meaningful Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

Greener Pastures

You’re living your best

I’m coming apart

You’re looking so blessed

I’ve fallen so far

I’m searching for rest

For my weary heart

But I’m feeling it less

And it’s getting so hard

Watching all the socials, and I see you’re doing fine

Posting all your selfies, and your numbers always climb

Everyone likes looking at the life they want to find

No one likes relating to the people in decline

No one likes the mirror when it shows them what’s inside

Everyone would rather look for dreams they can’t define

Something better, richer, bigger, more than the next guy

A little bit more money, then we’ll sure be satisfied

A little something extra on the top of what is mine

A little fleeting sense of bliss that’s sure to fade in time

Possessions are possessing us, contentment’s undermined

We’re sure the grass is greener when we check the other side

But the image that we’re seein’ is a cover meant to hide

That what’s beyond the fence is barren, and the advertisements lied

When they’re selling us true livin’ from a place where hope has died

Spending all day

Looking through the fence at other pastures

While the opportunities to do your passion’s slipping past ya

Going astray,

Blowing off the skills that I should master

But I’m jealous of all these who do it better, do it faster

Making my way
Working toward the goals I set for last year

But the more I run it seems the finish line is moving backwards

I like to say

That I’m taking my time when I’m slow to stack words

But it’s like I’m running, sprinting on a leg that’s fractured

Time heals all wounds

That’s what they say, but I am not sure

Seems sometime soon

I’d be on my way, but I’ve still got hurt

Trying to ruin

What I dream someday will give me pleasure

With the illusion of the harmlessness of leisure

I take a measure of the distance I have traveled,

Should convince me that my dreams haven’t unraveled

But the crowd of voices in my head all babble

Like the war is over and I’ve lost the battle

Like the judge declared the sentence, rapped the gavel

On the block, we’re off the clock, this is just rabble

And it’s rousing nothing, no, at best I dabble

In the meaning of the verse with which I grapple

So I look beyond the fence for what I tell myself I need.

“If I had it good like that, then I’m sure I would succeed.”

Out of Time

Here’s another poem meant as a spoken word piece.
I know it’s been a while since the last post – one of many factors that inspired this poem. I’ve had a number of blog post ideas that sound great for a moment and then fade into memory, lost in distraction or the more urgent needs of life … but every once in a while I get spurts of writing done.

Tick-tock tick-tock, feeling out of time
Watching the clock, like it might rewind
Thoughts are time-locked, moving in a line
Through a minefield, thinkin’ ‘bout what’s mines

I been livin’ in the past, or I’m fearin’ for the future
Dwellin’ on the last things I said and how they hurt ya
Time is flyin’ fast and they say that means it’s fun
But I’m watchin’ and the hourglass is draining, almost done
Every grain a memory of a place I’ve been before
A little pain when I see important options unexplored
I don’t aim to play “What if?” — waste of time I can’t afford
Need to keep up with “What is” ‘cause with time there’s never more

Shut the door, I don’t mean to be ravin’
Out my mind – All these questions I’m raisin’
Out of time – got these goals but I’m lazy
Shut my eyes – should be set on obtainin’ 
Everything that I said I’d be aiming at
Alarm rings, stay in bed, I be snoozin’ that
New day brings grace instead of what I should get
But I cling to the blanket of my regret

Cold inside, I’m uncomfortable in my head
Try to hide all the dreams that I left for dead
Brush aside all the wreckage from words I said
Full of lies, not only empty promises
Compromise, lookin’ back on the things I did
Idolize all the ones getting after it
Never tried, not enough to create a hit
I despise what I do, and I can’t forget

When I look at the past, I feel out of sequence
When I measure my present, I’m so delinquent
Will I finish the plans and ideas I’m thinkin?
Look at the future for me, there’s no freak win
See, I fail to develop in me any discipline
Good things I do once, I will rarely do again
And that’s a road that only leads to a dead end
But that’s the situation that I have placed myself in

Caught between my regret and what hasn’t happened yet
Between the person that I was and who I’m afraid I’ll be
Worry ‘bout the fantasy, I forget the real me
Lookin’ backwards as I’m walkin’ — How am I supposed to see?
Thinkin’ forwards when I’m dreamin’ all the possibilities
But it’s much more like a nightmare when it finally clicks for me
That the clock is ever tickin’ and the rate is only quickened
And I’m missin’ all the seconds — slip into eternity
And I’m stuck beneath the burden of the knowledge in this wording
Like a lock around the hurtin’ and I lost the only key

Tick-tock tick-tock, feeling out of time
Unwind the clock, gears all start to grind
Thoughts so fleeting, dreams all in decline
Like the twilight swallowing sunshine