Pain
Pain will find its pleasures
In some unhealthy body
Or, perhaps the unwashed mind
Like a joint overused in a marathon
With no likely win to its name
Now, that's what I call pain
Cold wind to the bones
And then mixed with the rain
Like, love gone bad, for no good reason
Like, in things we can't sustain
Now, that's what I call pain
We are drawn to the Earth
How can we stay?
What will life allow
That will work for us today
Now, that's what I call pain
Copyright 1995 Robert Luttrell
cactusb@seanet.com
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