I got no need for confidence
I’ve got no room for eloquence at home
I got no use for consequence
I can live inside the events of which I’ve sewn
I got no time for explanation
I’ve got no sense for reservation inside my soul
I got no weight for conversation
I can hardly find patience for my own
Can a man trust his own soul
Can a man love enough to forget the old
Can a man use the past enough it becomes the future’s cloak
I got no claim for fortune
I’ve got no tongue for porridge just as well
I got no intention for courage
I can clearly picture words foresaid trying to rebel