Not My Own
Patrick Cannell © 1998
Empty are the pleas and ring so hollow
Because they're borrowed.
Shallow is the sea in which I'm sinking,
Not ever thinking.
Aimless is the tale through which I wander
But never ponder.
The blows are bound to fail because they're selfless,
Somebody else's.
The shifting sand on which I stand is just a ruse.
I speak to you with words in a voice that's not my own.
(Not my own.) It's not own.
(Not my own.)
And the hero lost his ability
When the Moon was sliding into syzygy.
It's just a ruse,
I speak to you with words in a voice that's not my own.
So don't be conned by the costume donned, it's just a ruse.
I speak to you with words in a voice that's not my own.
The shifting sand on which I stand is just a ruse.
I speak to you with words in a voice that's not my own.
(Not my own.) It's not own.
(Not my own.) Not my own.