when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again, for you?
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn't break again, no
doesn't break again in two
Another night, another sim, another fire that feels cold compared to the heat under my skin.
I should’ve known, shoulda known by now
that I was always gonna come back around
back in the day you know you let me down
thought maybe I’d finally figured you out, ‘cause--
You'd think I'd be used to this by now. That it would have gotten boring.
Maybe it is, and I just haven't caught on yet.
you said that things would be different
but all that turns out to be fiction
breaking dishes in the kitchen, walking on glass, babe
you say it's space that your needing, I say forget it, I’m leaving
And there are never answers from the moon, even when the moon was closer than this. The moon's no longer in my sky.
but history keeps on repeating
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again for you
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn’t break again, no
doesn’t break again in two
The lesson, I am told--repeatedly--is that I won't learn to stop making the mistakes, but to become perceptive enough to catch them sooner. Which is great, really, so--when is that going to happen?
when will I learn that I, I can do better,
I can do better, much better than you
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
over and over again over and over again
It's not a question of better or worse. It's not even really a question of obedience, I'm very committed to obedience. It's that the signposts I thought might be in the distance...Well. They've gotten closer. They're no longer a possible, they're a definite. And they say exactly what I thought they would.
Feared they would.
And there's no way off the road.
I’m all out of new words to say
running on empty out of reasons to stay
my friends told me it would go this way
they call me stupid when I say that you’ve changed, but--
So what am I looking for in all the traveling? I can't even say it's answers, really, because my answers are going to come from within or without, when it's time; I have no control over that end of the process. I'm more looking for...temporary. Temporary patches, temporary fixes, temporary distractions, temporary ways to pull me out of my head.
you said that things would be different
but all that turns out to be fiction
but history keeps on repeating
Because all the gods know, I'm not going to find any help inside this skull.
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again for you
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn’t break again, no
doesn’t break again in two
Or maybe it has nothing to do with mind, but body. That's a possibility. Find something to distract the body...entirely from overthinking...that doesn't leave new scars.
Tall order.
when will I learn that I, I can do better
I can do better, much better than you
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
over and over again over and OVER again--
Underwater again, and this is becoming a theme. Brought the train up only to fall under the surface again. Is there a lesson here I'm missing? I mean, it's pretty, don't get me wrong, and the rules under the waves are different enough they do neatly distract me...but only for small amounts of time.
I should know better, I should know better
I should know better, tell me why
I can’t remember, I can’t remember, the way it hurts me every time
Past pattern reflective, haven't I said that before? Breakups and shakeups, haven't I had those before? Is there anything in the adult end of my life that isn't repeating?
Don't I ever learn from anything?
when will I learn that I, I can do better
I can do better, much better than you
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
over and over again over and OVER AGAIN--
And there is no altar to any god I've ever met that can wrap this up neatly for me in an understandable way.
There was something that happened at a religious conference, once...I was attending an open Candomblé ritual, since I didn't know precisely how it differed from voudon ones I'd attended--but it turned out I was wrong on the precise name, and it was an open Yoruba ritual.
The rider for Yemọja drifted over, and looked me intently in the face. The drums were hot, bodies were moving, the smell of salt and skin and sea was dizzying, but still she watched me.
"Child," she said. "Come down. You are so far away. Come join the people."
And I looked around, at the hotel conference room packed with bodies, all shades, all states of dress and undress, reaching, dancing, kneeling, crying, laughing--and I just raised my arms, gesturing to the room.
"I'm here, Mother. I'm right here."
And she just shook her head. "No, you're up on the mountain. You need to come join us." And she withdrew into the crowd, and the rider collapsed, shaking, and she was patted with a towel and given water and seated in a corner, and I just stood there, wondering what had happened.
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again for you
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn’t break again, no
doesn’t break in two
Maybe I still don't know. Maybe I only think I've come down the mountain. Maybe I'm still far from the people.
But if so, I no longer know how to get to them. If they're not where I can see, where are they? And if I'm not where I can be seen, where am I?
And ultimately, will it help with coping, because that is the ultimate question behind every statement at present. Because if it won't, maybe I don't want to come down at all.
(Pictures taken at the Knife's Edge, Mindgardens, Overlook, La Lune Parish, the UPR Forest Reserve, Undead Darkness, New Haven by Night, Dark Sanctuary of the Red Forest and Death by Moonlight. Lyrics are from Paloma Faith's Mistakes.)
No comments:
Post a Comment