Look At Me
The Waiting
Golden bars of sunlight come sneaking through the shutters
Laying stripes on my back like a zebra.
Sweaty fingers turning pages, and clinging to the bed
Like it's a bride and I never want to leave her.
Paul calls me a saint and the mattress shakes with laughter
And the sheets let out a chuckle while the pillow holds one in.
I don't believe a word I read, but the man is so convincing
Says You're calling me a winner of a game I never win.
But with every word I read I feel Your eyes upon me
And I don't mind at all.
I love the way You look at me, the way You steer Your eyes
To see the bride beneath the harlot's skin, the virtue underneath the sin.
I love the way You look at me, when You lift the veil and You repeat Your vow.
Get up for the shower, wash, and scrub, and scour every part
As if a cleaner man could better bear the shame.
Now, move out into the sunlight, a frightened fool
There's reason for my fright, for I'm a messenger who's forgetting why he came.
But with every step I take I feel Your eyes are on me,
And I don't mind at all.
For when you look at me, You see every drop of blood You spent.
Like the color that comes creeping to my face.
It is such sweet embarrassment to see the dowry that You paid for my cold embrace.
But I'll never, never, never let you go because...