And it’s unclear
But this may be my last song
Oh, I, I can tell
She’s raising hell to give to me
She got me warm
So please don’t get me rescued
Oh, say you’ll miss me one last time
I’ll be strong, but whatever you do
Please don’t get me rescued…
How often does anyone really stand up and ask the hard questions? “Is this where I should be? Am I inspired? Do I do what I do because I need to, want to and love to, or because I don’t know what else to do? And where would I begin even if I should?” These are the questions lining the tiny squares of my new calendar and already I’m six days behind.
