Itís always the first time
Itís always the first time:
Penetration, pain, petitions for grace and pardon not forthcoming,
I clothe myself in fantasy
Of course, he is not a mean man
He is just everyman
And IÖa piece of salt pork upon a slab
Where knife in hand
He practices his nocturnal emissions.
Commissions of fingers to lips and the tips of his tongue
Telling me not to tell.
I did notÖtell, you know.
But, welling in me Ö
A broke and mangled child
Grown now into a woman of tears
Fearing nothing but death
By my own hand
Itís always the same sentence
I do not move
I do not scream
And sense the sin came
Within the city
Within my mothers house
And I do not screamÖ. I cannot be redeemed
I most be taken to the edge of the city
I must be put to death, but I do not die
I just cease to rise in the morning with any joy
I cease to hear the music
I cease to play
My childhood is over
I smell every smell
I notice the grimace. The wink. The look.
I discern spirits
I am aware of every movement
I am guilty of everything.
I blame God for nothing
I release Him from everything
Finding him busy tending bigger holocaust
I am convicted of everything
But mostly of not loving God
Who didnít love me enough to save me
Didnít love me enough to find me a place to hide
And when on seeing the multitude of my sinsÖ
Crossed over to the other side.