I step up to the microphone
Scoured by eyes, I'm all alone.
Where can I run from their gaze?
I withdraw into the maze,
Turn the key and disappear
Into the shadows of my fear;
Hidden by the haze.
My blood-source is their sympathy,
My breath is made from what they see.
I justify my being here
By their drawing me near.
Oh people, bring me in!
Forgive me of my sins,
I cannot stand the scorning leer.
You played the flute and no one was dancing,
You sang a sad song, and no one was crying!
I drown you out and look away,
The audience I'd rather play.
I cannot seem to turn from my
Addiction to the people's eyes,
The cheering of the fray.
If I could sing like westward breezes
And it's power deftly freezes
demons in their wicked ways
whispering to the end of days,
But had not love, then what am I?
A crashing cymbal, buzzing fly
An empty, heartless gaze!
We have not love if lacking Him
Who lights our eyes and fills to brim
our beating heart and lungs
And whose ending was where we begun.
I'm begging you! I'm on the ground,
Turn me away from those around
To you, my Love, I'll run.