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You hope and pray
and always say
you don’t believe in these
“futile gestures.”
But, in the dark at night,
I know you know you do.
This doubt is everything to you—
your very own religion.
Take a look at yourself;
you know it’s true.

But every time that we sit down
it seems you’ve got the higher ground
and every word I try to say
won’t leave my mouth.

So take your time;
I’m paralyzed.
I’m going nowhere.
I’ll be right here when you come home,
right here waiting this time.
I’m paralyzed.
We’re getting nowhere.
I’ll be right here when you come home,
right here all alone.

Call it a masochistic streak;
I know my position’s a little weak:
an atheist misologist
versus a shameless idealist.
But still we go around again,
hoping this time we both might win,
but we can’t even agree
on what we’re fighting for.

It’s getting late again,
and once again we’re stuck in nowhere.
It’s past time to turn and walk
and never look behind.
But I’m not the kind to walk away,
even with the battle over;
I’m stumped, but still
hanging around.

And every time that we sit down
you know you’ve got the higher ground,
and so I sit here like a fool
and write it down.


from Schroedinger's Cat, released June 11, 2000
written and performed by Joe Rybicki


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Johnny High Ground Cleveland, Ohio

Mostly solo stuff from that one guy from whatever... (That was the name of the band. Really. I know.)

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