#81: The Giving Tree 6 (Violence)

I'm a secret agent and I have a secret pill,

This knife here in my pocket's not meant to kill,

I keep it around just to protect you from me,

Everything in this world's not exactly as it seems

I'm a peaceful guy and I think I have pretty peaceful dreams,

But when I come home to my wife she says, honey do you know what I mean when I say,

You're violent, oh you're violent, 

You're so violent, oh you're violent.

I'm not a fighting man but yeah I've learned a thing or two

Cause in the end, when you're on the ground, you do what ya gotta do

I know you think that a dog can't  bite if he ain't got no teeth,

But a dog can't hunt and dog can't live if he's got no way to eat.

I'm a peaceful guy and I think I have pretty peaceful dreams

But when I come home to my wife she says, baby do you know what I mean when I say,

You're violent, oh you're violent, 

You're so violent, you're so violent.

Believe me, you haven't got it quite right,

Believe me, I'm not the violent type.

I'm a secret agent with a secret gun I point,

It's fused into my hand, it's attached to my finger joint,

on bad days I wanna fire off at everyone I see

or fire at the fingers that are pointing back at me

But I'm a thoughtful guy and I think I've invested my fair share,

Of thinking about living my life completely self aware,

So honey you're wrong, i'm not that rough, in fact all I do is care,

And if I like to fight it's not violence, it's only because I'm scared. 

I'm not violent,  No I'm not violent. 

Believe me, you haven't got it quite right,

Believe me, I'm not the violent type.


William Coe
written by Andrew Gaboury
afieldofcrowns.blogspot.com
www.fourwindscollective.com

I can’t fight. I can’t... move forward – it’s as if a fraction of a song is skipping over and over and over in my mind – and I can’t – I can’t focus on anything else. For seven years. It’s hell. I keep thinking ‘this is what hell must be like’ – but I can’t get anywhere so I'm afraid it’s only purgatory. I don’t have reason. Do you know what happened? She just said something, my wife. Years ago. Harmless enough; some little joke about how old I’ve become; some little jab at how I can’t even hold a paintbrush steady – see? I can’t even remember the specifics. But, my wife, she just said it and it hit too many buttons and started this soundtrack buzzing, buzzing, buzzing in my skull – this piercing replay constantly reminding me that I'm dirt just – I, I, I I – I don’t know, I couldn’t stop it – lost control of my hands and arms and they just flew and my muscles were free – they were free. I’ve never felt that freedom before – complete and utter loss of control – and there she was, looking up at me from her knees, just looking up. Broken. And I’ve lost. I’ve lost my will. And my head. And I can’t sleep because I’ve become some monster that I can’t even begin to respect and this monster, this monster keeps wanting to burst out, just tear itself out of my mind through all those layers of bone and flesh and skin but it’s stuck there at the threshold, see and it just keeps, it just keeps ripping at me. Little by little. I murdered my life, my ambition. I painted for her. And after that everything just went away.