This Morning...

So many times I tried to carry you through the fairness
So many times I tried to wish you a happy birthday
Even though the whispering broke my glimpse of silence
I remain unsober in language & demeanor

There was wincing when other ways to cope had failed
There was a stance that was converted nearly on your behalf
Aside from torture and a domestic way of living
I remain unsober in language & demeanor

Think of how I rested myself on the rails of the chateau
Think about worldly and naked positions of faith
Now the question has a pulse to be reckoned
I remain unsober in language & demeanor