here it comes (prepare to be blown away!): it is difficult to be thoughtful when you are in the kitchen and sarah is washing dishes (and banging away at it enthusiastically), and steph is listening to beverly cleary's "Ramona" books on tape.
i am the comfortable, secure definition of this western world
i have perfected deceit: even i believe i'm above saving
and i'll never let you see
i am the broken
i am the bruised
i am the poor ones
i have been used
it takes me falling to the ground to admit to fully needing you
then when i'm breathing my last breath
come and save me, i will cry to you
cause pride has not let me say
i am the broken
i am the bruised
i am the poor ones
i have been used
why does it take so much to bring me to my knees?
why does it takes so much pain for me to see?
if strength is only found when i am on my knees
why is it so hard to show that i am weak?
(barlowgirl "song for the broken")
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