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In The Least

By Wil C. Fry, March 14, 1997, 03:00

Copyright © 1997 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


There was love, then only confusion
I am the victim of my own delusions
You forgot, my promises are always kept
My heart belonged only to you, except
You wouldnít have it. Now I stand
Alone, and just canít seem to comprehend
The Destination. Where do I go
From here? Who do I know
In here? The Wall comes crashing down
To the beat of drums in this town
We hear the songs but weíre afraid to dance
Do I still have a chance?
Iím impaled on a lance of deception
Do my mindís feeble conceptions
Interest you in the least?



Written in The Edge nightclub, Little Rock, Ark.



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