Reality Cheque

It was like I was given
a blank reality cheque
with no signed seal of approval
no signature tune
nowhere to sign my name
and cash it in
for dollars and cents
and no need to pawn my last possessions.

I've seen it all
this kind of beast.
It's in the nature of things.
Deeds as sleek as a greased panther
walking on feet born to stalking.

Like a balloon on a string
I let myself go
rose above the occasion.
But in the rarified air
of graces and vice
gentle manners didnt cut the mustard
didn't reel in the slack
didn't do the bearer any favours.

It's just sleep I crave
before anything else.
There are not enough hours in the day.
Sometimes on my feet
I'm so dead beat
I could slit my wrists
and die happy.

Still one mans testament
is another mans excrement
and theres no such thing as holy water.

Though there are times
I've tried to partake
of the sacred white host
I've stuck my tongue out
at a few holy fathers.
Black is the colour
of the lies I've told
each one indelibly inked on my tongue.

But true confessions
were never my style.
I entered confessionals
just to receive penance
not have my palms read
my soul bled
my conscience pricked.

A boy grows into a man.
It's a hard won thing.
We carry the scars
like a cross to Calvary.

But I'm not frightened anymore.
Im too cynical to be frightened.
So keep your blessings
for a holier being,
and I'll keep my pennies
for my own salvation.



Reality Cheque -Audio
Rowan Donovan