Change

I don't want to change.
I want to feel better.
That's my issue,
my shackles and fetters.

I'm married to suffering
by ball and chain
'cause I want to feel better
yet remain the same.

It's too hard for me
to change myself.
There was a mistake
when the cards were dealt.
So please give me
a better hand.
And let me stay
the way I am.

Sure, I'm lazy,
but that's okay.
It's temporary
anyway.
So just let me
go back to sleep.
The spirit is willing;
my flesh is weak.

Once you know,
you can't un-know.
So don't tell me anymore!
Ignorance is bliss, you see,
so let the sleeping snore.

It's too late for me,
I know too much!
The original way
got so corrupt!
A diamond thrown
into the muck.
Treasures traded
for worthless stuff.

Once we know,
we can't un-know.
Sometimes, I wish I could.
So I could go around believing,
"Hey, I'm pretty good."
Sure, it's not true.
But feels much better.
That's my issue,
my shackles and fetters.

I'm married to suffering
by ball and chain
'cause I want to feel better
yet remain the same.

It's true that I don't
rob and steal
but doesn't mean bodhi
has been revealed.
So how can I think
me pretty good
when I've yet to do
what Jesus would?

By saintly standards,
I am a thief.
I rob and steal
and cause much grief.
'Cause what I see,
I want to own.
It leads me further
from our home.

I know some things.
I know too much!
And most of it
is worthless stuff.
Since I still can't right
what fell corrupt;
I'm sinking deeper
into the muck!

If this learning cannot
save the drowning,
then what's that learning for?
Too deeply I've been
slumbering,
don't let the sleeping snore!

So nudge and budge.
Oh God above.
Let ring the Golden Bell.
The longer I've been slumbering
I'm slipping into hell.

So poke and prod;
Don't let me nod.
Let ring the Golden Bell.
The longer we've been slumbering
it's not going very well.

Devils with horns
and pitchforks?
That is hardly a disguise!
The demons I'm most
acquainted
are my thieving set of eyes.

Look at that.
Looks soft enough.
So I reach a thieving
hand to touch.
I covet and steal,
and want to own.
I take a giant
leap from home.

But everything
I hold today
too soon it will be
stripped away.
I know what you're
about to say:

It's temporary anyway.

This, I know.
But tell these eyes.
These thieves
they cannot realize
that what's here today
is gone tomorrow:
We cannot own;
at most, we borrow.

Accumulating.
Wanting more.
Tell me what that stuff is for?
If it sinks us deeper
into the dream,
and leads us further
from the mean.

I covet. I steal.
I plot to own.
That's how I got
so far from home.

If these roots of sensation
cannot be pure,
how can they lead us
to the cure?
I go by feeling.
I go by sight.
They lead me further
into the night.

I want to feel better,
my ball and chain.
Adjust my feelings
yet remain the same.
Up and down
an endless game.
I'm tired of playing:

I have to change.