The Shape I Had Taken

Is it a dream or is it me
I’m running and they’re chasing me
I’m tired but they’re not catching me
How can it be
They’re lean and I, mean …

I mean, how can it be, so I stop to see
as they catch up to me, am I to believe
what my I’s, haven’t seen
they’re in better shape then me
how could that be, they never caught me
was it a dream
something in between

Were they running after me, or after all
all the falls
were they trying to pick me up, not run me down
were they tired, I was outta shape
how could it be, they never caught up
… up to me

Then I realized it was the shape I had taken
I, mean
the means
I was running everywhere and anywhere
they were wearing out
I was in, to flying, high, overhead

It wasn’t me, the shape I had taken, and
they were chasing me
I was out of shape, so I always escaped
to the same places, I mean, there was no end
to where I could go
was it me or was it my dream, or
something in between
I was running

Hard to believe, in a dream, that has me
I had been running since I was a son
no wonder they couldn’t catch me
from sun up to sun down, I wouldn’t let go
so around and around I went

They were in better shape
but they never caught me
so outta shape and they couldn’t catch me
I stopped on that thought
and turned to ask why,
they never caught me
when the dream became me
and they were my al…lies

All lies were a side I had taken
to shape a landscape I couldn’t escape
but I could run
a way
that fit me
outta shape … and I wouldn’t catch me

So I stopped on that thought
and turned to ask why
then the dream caught me
the him and the hir that I saw were a whirr
the stir of a dream of a me not on the run
finding my self … esteem
didn’t mean running away from the dream deep in me

The shape I had taken
was simply misshapen
from misgivings that I was living as me
all the lies I wouldn’t let die
were tiring out my allies

I’d stopped in my dream for a moment to see
who was chasing after me
to see
was a shock, I saw what, I, mean
I dropped to my knees
so I might better see

The feats that were shaping me
were earlier defeats, running through me
to keep me from being caught
by the loving thoughts chasing me

“Not me, not me” still, echoed from canyons in me
but I now couldn’t run, my being, on my knees
from the need not only in me
to free both me and my allies
from the chase that had encased me
a life of a me that wasn’t run free