Here it comes, it's on it's way
I can feel the bad schitte coming
It's on it's way to curse me
And it ain't just a humming
First there's hearing without hearing
Then there's out of body blackouts
Next comes the depressive ways
And they just ain't gonna backout
Like a Sword of Damocles
It dangles over my head
I wish it weren't coming
I'd rather I was dead
To have this pressing worry
Weighing on my soul
Leaving in my heart
One great big hole
Is pure hell on earth
Let me say that to you
It destroys my sanity
And peace of mind too
I wish I could escape it
Go away somewhere far
Too far for it to get me
I wish it on a star
If only I were never born
Never, ever came to be
Then it'd all be better
As far as I can see
Lord grant this wish for me
This one tiny little wish
I hand my life over to You
Hold it up as on a dish
Let it not be filled with evil
Keep all the bad at bay
I know that you can do it Lord
If only You will say
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem