it is what it is

it is all fantasy and bullshit,

it is all hypocrisy and lies,

it is all vanity and puffed up pride,

it is all just cheap, innocent illusion;

it is what it is;

strip away the greed,

remove the primeval lust,

wipe off the impermeable filth,

reach out just once before

it’s too late;

it is what it is;

past the point of no return,

no more free passes,

no more worn out excuses,

no more finger pointing,

no more hiding under the table;

it is what it is;

you gave it your best shot,

you gave it all you had,

but it was never close,

it was never quite enough,

it never had a chance;

it is what it is;

words dance and spin,

heaving and pulsating,

gyrating and undulating,

titillating like some

coked-up stripper,

full of fanciful, fanatical

flesh-driven dreams,

waiting to explode onto

forgotten, feverish faces,

for the cost of one thin

dollar bill,

filling and stuffing

until there is room for no more,

gagging and sagging,

choking and smoking,

one-way, back street alleys,

death without dying,

honor without honor;

it is what it is;

like all things temporary,

this body fades into the mist,

alone and insecure,

never to rise,

never to return;

in the morning darkness,

I reach out for Your precious hand,

from the heights of places unknown,

You take hold,

pulling me from the pits below,

restoring me once again,

forgiving me,

loving me,

healing me,

it is what it is;

You are all there is.

.

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