Sympathy
by Michael Doyle

The pains that we endure
For the things that we want.
We know there's no cure.
For the dogs that won't hunt.

Sleep it off
That's what they say.
Give us a cough,
Then, drink it away.

We gotta be who we gotta be,
That's always kinda troubled me.
Rock on to a full-blown catastrophe,
I won't ask for any sympathy.

Living hard for such sweet sorrow,
I'm going hot toward tomorrow.
Singing songs for no one here.
My ghosts have all disappeared.

Pushing forward to what won't suck.
It turns out I was born out of luck.
I played that guitar until my fingers bled,
But I couldn't get that song out of my head.

We gotta be who we gotta be,
That's always kinda troubled me.
Rock on to a full-blown catastrophe,
I won't ask for any sympathy.

You said we'd talk
When I was myself.
I got up to walk.
I guess you thought I was someone else.

I was at home in the darkness,
Finding light in the harshness.
Navigating my life by moonlight,
I took my best shots by second sight.

We gotta be who we gotta be,
That's always kinda troubled me.
Rock on to a full-blown catastrophe,
I won't ask for any sympathy.

(c) May 19, 2025   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved