I’m not quite sure if this is an obstacle
And that’s what makes it seem so impossible
See, I’m not a man afraid of transcending
Nor am I a man ashamed of quitting
I just don’t know what to do
With this thing you set between us two
Like it was an ordinary thing to do.
Is it my fault for being weak, my dear?
For being incapable of handling life?
Or are you to blame for being to blame here…still my dear?
For setting me up to sacrifice?
Most of my life I’ve been sustained by my sorrow,
Looking for the day I could bear someone’s also
But I’m happy to help you with all of your ecstasies
Especially those that involve me
But I didn’t prepare my feelings
To receive this thing you are revealing
With its own sense of being.
Is it my fault for being weak, my dear?
For being incapable of handling life?
Or are you to blame for being to blame here…still my dear?
For setting me up to sacrifice?
You know I hate every one of these questions
But the pain in me knows no other expression
I cannot run; I cannot overcome
And that leaves me in one hell of a condition.
So it sits solemnly where you’ve set it
Cozy in the warm tangles of your blankets
Sometimes I guess I don’t even notice it
But I also don’t see the mountain when I’m beneath it
And while that might seem the best place to hide
It’s also best for being buried by
The angriest of landslides
Is it my fault for being weak, my dear?
For being incapable of handling life?
Or are you to blame for being to blame here…still my dear?
For setting me up to sacrifice?