I’m not mute and I never got the boot or the belt, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt pain every now and again
I don’t have any screws loose upstairs or any bats in my belfry, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t wondered why life can be like hell
I don’t have any scars on my body or my mind or my spirit, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t bled real blood or that I never had any wounds on my psyche or on my soul
So why do I feel guilty every now and then, when I see every day on the news that someone new fell
To the temptation to end it all, to the bottle or the throttle, from a knife accross the throat or a bullet to the gut
To hatred, to sorrow, to envy, to obsession, to desire, to jealousy, to cruelty, so many many things taking lives every day
I know there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, I know I can’t reach every single person, can’t stop every single crime every single time
So why do I feel guilty every now and then when I think that tomorrow someone new will fall and I’ll still be here wondering why?