It's the sin not the sinner I'd insisted out loud to keep my hands clean But the line often blurred when it was there at all, often disappearing In church cushions where I couched my blame and distaste for everything challenging Progress on a path, simple in syntax, but complex and constraining And draining Soon circles of hell emptied out and refilled with lies of our history Corporate control, leaders and their thrones, I accused and found guilty From a place far away where my cluster bomb blame I'd watch detonating Removed from the stain of blood, the tattered remains of all that I hate
Until nothing remained and I was alone With a the feeling that I've gone about this entirely wrong Is it too late to fight for a simpler struggle To forget that I'm me, to forget if I'm right, and cling to the subtle Breathe in the ring, the harmonizing of different voices saying different things Is it better to forget the words or to never sing? I've always been good at finding the problems with everyone else That's the main problem that I have with myself