I Feel Sick

Ode to tough love & the complexity of mental illness among loved ones

Momma, I’m half the man I used to be.

And not the good half that you gave to me.

No, I never meant to be a burden.

See now, you and I are both left hurtin’.

Clawed my way up from rock bottom.

Bloody fingertips, that’s how I got ‘em.

And just when I thought nothing could change.

You went and kicked me out, and off the range.

May be the black sheep of the family.

But a fortunate son, in time I’d see.

No, the cards will never do me wrong.

Just can’t stay in the game too long.

Yeah, there’s madness to my method.

But don’t know what it is; it’s not been tested.

Just shut my rebel mouth and learned to listen.

Closed my weary eyes to preserve my vision.

So, now I lay me down to sleep.

To be haunted by that which I must reap.

Dreams of bloodstained leaves and dirty coat sleeves.

And all these I’ve wronged grant us reprieves.

Momma, hear my cries; I feel sick.

Please call the doctor; better make it quick.

Oh, now tell me, doctor, will I die?

He says, Yes, you will, boy, and so won’t I.