God's grace--not yours
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I stepped inside your head today
I know you’re dead, but you live on
in me
I’ve wanted to walk in your head for a
long time, but I’ve been comfortable with who
you are in me
now I need to know or at least get a hint
some kind of something to help me understand
just what was fucking going on in your head
to make it the only choice
the last choice you’d ever make for yourself and
for me
I remember the night
there was no breeze and the
air heavy
you woke me up and told me to get dressed
then off we went
I don’t remember why or what after that
but when we reached the night sand of padre island
you smoked a cigarette and we watched the waves
roll up and retreat back
you didn’t speak and I seemed to know not to talk
eventually, you reached over and pushed the lock
down on my side, started the car, said you were sorry
and drove into the approaching waves
I remember freaking out, screaming and crying, begging
and pleading from the floorboard of the old rambler,
trying to get you to hit the reverse and go home,
you did and then took me to ihop for pancakes.
How bad it was, I’ll never know, but I think I live by
god’s grace, not yours.
J. Masuda © 2004
I know you’re dead, but you live on
in me
I’ve wanted to walk in your head for a
long time, but I’ve been comfortable with who
you are in me
now I need to know or at least get a hint
some kind of something to help me understand
just what was fucking going on in your head
to make it the only choice
the last choice you’d ever make for yourself and
for me
I remember the night
there was no breeze and the
air heavy
you woke me up and told me to get dressed
then off we went
I don’t remember why or what after that
but when we reached the night sand of padre island
you smoked a cigarette and we watched the waves
roll up and retreat back
you didn’t speak and I seemed to know not to talk
eventually, you reached over and pushed the lock
down on my side, started the car, said you were sorry
and drove into the approaching waves
I remember freaking out, screaming and crying, begging
and pleading from the floorboard of the old rambler,
trying to get you to hit the reverse and go home,
you did and then took me to ihop for pancakes.
How bad it was, I’ll never know, but I think I live by
god’s grace, not yours.
J. Masuda © 2004
