They say you find "the one" once you stop looking.
If that's true then I’ma be alone for life ‘cause my eyes are always open.
The homies call me thirsty and you can think what you want but I am not desperate.
The truth is, I'm lonely. And that's hard to believe 'cause I'm always surrounded by
bodies, and they keep me sane, but not company.
They love me, convinced that I'm Super Man but if I showed them how broken I am I
doubt if they'd stick around. So I don't. So they do, and it's like I have to choose between
being accepted by those who don't know me or abandoned by those who do. Either way,
And I guess I am thirsty, longing for an oasis, a pool of fresh water
that knows me enough to show me myself.
And after seeing my filth reflected in her
tranquil skin, I'm not rejected in judgment,
but invited in to be cleansed.
So I strip my fig leaves and let her see everything
I swore I'd never show. And now she knows I work with youth and sometimes
look at girls with lust.
And that I'm more prone to be
charitable when there's an audience applauding
And how the last time I reached an oasis I was too afraid to get in.
So I stole a drink, skipped a rock and urinated before I left.
And my nakedness continues to confess until anyone with
half a conscience would gag with disgust.
But still, she is still. And still she invites me into her life.
Yes. I am desperate for such forgiveness.
For such a woman.
But am I such a man?
Maybe that's why I'm so lonely.
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