Heap of Hide

I’m just a sad ol’ heap of hide. 
I’m invested in this hide.
If you’re asking me to say I wouldn’t miss it, I could not tell you straight.
The stairway to heaven turned out to be a cliff, so I’ll just wait
With my mind—the receiver, the perceiver, the deceiver—til it gets too late
            Too late to see that I ain’t no heap of hide. 
I am clever and I calculate my moves.
I make pronouncements to distinguish me from you.
I walk down to the corner and my fancy speech corrupts the youth all day.
The minute that I let myself let go, there’ll be humble hell to pay
Let it rain, let the whisperin’ winds of death strip my ol’ heap o’ hide away
Strip this ol’ heap o’ hide away.
There ain’t no night that’s as dark as all my days
I’m not afraid.  I’m just set in my proud ways
Anyhow, how would I tell ‘em that the friend and son they love is dead and gone?
I bet they’d say I’m crazy and that I was bored and planned it all along.
The moment that you find what it is you think you are, you’re wrong
Wrong. You’ve lost it, heap of hide.
I need air to stay alive
Suffering breathes thoughts, and I have to oblige.
My thoughts are clouds. It’s no wonder that the sun’s so hard to see.
Fear has got me graspin’ for each last long cloud of breath that I can breathe
All this time I’ve been thinkin’ I’m the castle, and I’m not even the king.
You’re a joker, heap of hide. 
My mind’s a churnin’ burnin’ dog-eat-dog machine
I got my matches and my can of gasoline
He turned and said, “Boy, you think you’re man enough to quit me now?
We’ve had a good thing goin’ and I’ve been payin’ in too long to have you go and quit on me now.
“So don’t you pretend like I haven’t always been your faithful friend. 
            Without me, you are just a heap of hide.”
I’m addicted to the show that must go on.
I’m the star, so don’t tell me I’ve got it wrong.
I know it’s my pride that commands me to have something to defend,
So I’ll take the ride and I will reap my reward in the bitter end.
              Death has got me scared and I am writhin' now.

Mind is just a scared man’s way to measure less and more.
As long as there are minds, I believe that there’ll be war.
There’s a person who keeps runnin’ through the world—he’s loose, he has a name, he’s me.
He knows that the heart of being is nothing, and being nothing is being free.
He’s careful not to look too deep inside.  He’s afraid of what he’d see. 
            Lord, have mercy on a heap o’ hide.


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