The Grip

Life in the grip,

Of a vice in a workshop,

Not moving on just stuck in the moment.

Drifting around from village to town,

Not knowing how love feels with a permanent frown.

Never seeing kindness even at its most blatant,

Just filling your veins with the poison of hatred.

End up in scrapes and escape from the chaos,

No peace of mind or a minute of stillness.

Life in the grip,

Like a giant machine crushing,

Not releasing the hold, stuck in the moment.

Contemplating change but not knowing how too,

Not understanding the pain you always hold on to.

Never grasping the fact, it’s not really about you,

Just wanting more so you do what you have too.

End up sinking deeper into the envelope of no hope,

No silence or solitude, the shadows surround you.

Life in the grip,

Of an unstoppable process,

Not understanding the vice isn’t done yet.

Many steps back and just a few forwards,

Not knowing you’re lucky if you just look around you.

Never giving yourself credit, can’t rest on your laurels,

Just down the road, your friend is a goner.

End up alone into space you just stare,

No rest for the wicked, you need to get out there.

Life in the grip,

Of an endless carousel,

Not in a fairground but in our villages and towns.