Everybody Push'en And Pullen At Me
By Linda A. Copp

Everybody pushen' and pullen' at me
Tucking roses round my bedside,
like wasps around a tree.
And I can't seem to get up
what's the reason, anyway,
When all they do is promise me,
then bleed me dead away.

Like parasites to blue moths.
I'm some puppet on a string.
Measured in their happiness
when I yield the song they sing.

When I fit into the fine print
of their blue copied plans.
When I say the things they want me to,
do the things they think I can.

Everybody pushen and pullen at me
Tucking roses round my bedside
like wasps around a tree.
And I can't seem to get up
the skies, a cavin' in
And my spirit's getting thin
and my mind's a breaking too!
And God knows, it is up to You!

By Linda A. Copp
 ©July 28, 1971