What Are we Doing to Ourselves

By Bruce Clifford

It's the heart that's killing me
As I reach out to the open sea
It's my mind that circles endlessly
It's hard to believe
So hard to see

It's my heart that gathers dust in a cloud
As I speak I pronounce it long and loud
It's my soul reaching out across the sky
Every moment of each day I hear a baby cry

What are we doing to ourselves
We once had a fighting chance
What are we doing to ourselves
We never understood the tapping of dance

It's my heart the pours the salt onto the open wound
Every voice I used to know is lost in wrath and tune
It's my mind wandering throughout the empty void
Every moment of everyday as we mold our brand new toy

What are we doing to ourselves
We once had a fighting chance
What are we doing to ourselves
We never understood the tapping of dance

©5/22/07 Bruce Clifford