Through writer's block, I knock
on those stone-cold doors again
They answer through their silence
but never let me in
Time and time again,
I'm lost and somewhat found
So with empty pad and pen,
I find it hard to now sit down
on these hallway floors again -
I've fallen to the ground
Never do I write
but still I'm writing now
And I write far on top -
on top my writer's block
Till it goes away again,
I write my every thought
As the ink is wearing thin,
till all my ink is gone;
the day is wearing thin
although the day is long
Through all that I have been,
I've not kept from being strong
I write another line
although the ink is gone
And as the paper's staying white
on which I try to write,
it's blown away by breeze -
the breeze of all my plight
I'm writing in my mind -
my words are just a dream
I'm writing all the time,
as time is everything
The block on which I write
has grown and touched the sky
but I'll climb my every mountain
as long as I survive
The block on which I write
weighs heavy on my mind,
but I will overcome
like I have my every time
So I'm writing on the ground
outside the coldest doors
It doesn't matter if they open -
it doesn't matter anymore
I'm writing now somehow
till my writing has to end
And after all that I have written,
I'm writing still within