Fall down. Kiss the ground once again. This mire too often my hearts desire. Pick me up. Dust me off once again. This mire too often my hearts desire. I create my own shame. Put a muzzle on my mouth when I get so very anxious. So very anxious again. Better off if things were left unsaid. Tomorrow's sorrows waiting there once again. The silver pinholes of the night refuse to sing their starry song tonight. Goodnight. (We always go back, but not this time.)