Why do I sense benevolence,
You stand tall at my great expense,
Thick words of gratitude, what a price to pay,
Stuck in my throat, I sell every word I say.
But I don't want your charity,
Twisting me round.
I don't want your charity,
Keeping me down.
Why does your world keep burying,
Gorging much deeper than it's ever been,
Rubbing still harder, salt on my heart,
Licking my burns while I grovel in your dirt.
You pity me with your tasteless gestures,
RGatitude for kind,
But your bludgeoned, intentioned objectives
Are screwing with my mind, screwing with my mind.
Writer(s): Deborah Ann Dyer, Len Anthony Arran
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