A thorny crown of my own making
Embedded in my righteous mind
I no longer feel the pain
You cut the wood, laid it at my feet
But the cross I bear I made myself
My tears became the stain
These things are woven into
The life and form I take today
Don’t know how to cut them out
Can I survive their extrication
Or am I Siamese with myself
Forever connected, inextricably devout
Life On The Skinny Branches 