It's Hard to Tell

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Brian Wapole

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I won't be long or far, she said
Then she left our door ajar
Six years on we met again
She frowned as if she had something to add
Do I know you
I replied, it's getting hard to tell

Disarm me, oh Lord
Crook my spine
Curse me deaf and blind
Get me drunk, oh Lord
On white noise wine

Lord scour my blistered feet
With rusted rotted serrated teeth
This, this, oh Lord, I dare entreat

For a home to be a home, I'm told
One needs a straw broom seven centuries old
It took years of dust passing through us
For you and I to come so unmoored
And then no home is quite home enough

Disarm me, oh Lord
Crook my spine
Curse me deaf and blind
Get me drunk, oh Lord
On white noise whine

Lord scour my blistered feet
With rusted rotted serrated teeth
This, this, oh Lord, I dare entreat

 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!