Twisted, Bitter, Wicked Words

Sometimes I feel if my heart were of steel
I could withstand arrows true.
Sometimes I feel that you could still run me through.
Sometimes I choose to be slightly amused
By your callous straight-forward prose.
Sometimes I choose to be pricked by the thorn of the rose.

If my words sound twisted,
Striking an ironic chord,
Paying the price for friends' free advice
Is more than I can afford.

Just take me for what I am.
Woman you've got to be stone-cold blind, not to see what I am.
If I had me a dollar for each day without you I'd die a wealthy man.
With nothing to show 'cept for being alone,
And that's what I am.

Sometimes I search for a much higher perch
To survey from above.
Sometimes I search deep in the depths of our love.
Sometimes I sense there's a barb-wire fence
Surrounding your very soul.
Sometimes I sense isolation has taken it's toll.

If my words sound bitter,
Filled with much remorse,
I say it's better to let
These emotions run their course.

Just take me for what I am.
Woman you've got to be stone-cold blind, not to see what I am.
If I had me a dollar for each day without you I'd die a wealthy man.
With nothing to show 'cept for being alone,
And that's what I am.

If my words sound wicked,
Drenched in sardonic lore,
An arresting quip when shot from the hip,
Makes it harder to ignore.

Take me for what I am.
Woman you've got to be stone-cold blind, not to see what I am.
If I had me a dollar for each day without you I'd die a wealthy man.
With nothing to show 'cept for being alone,
And that's what I am.

© 1994 Eric Stuart/(p) Little Black Book (BMI)