Project: Unstable balance

09 — I’VE HAD ENOUGH

I have had enough, I have had enough,
I have had enough, I have had enough!
See how many leaves the wind has swept away?
Do you really think I’m happy day by day,
Having to defend myself from senseless claims
That I’ve shelved my ideals, that I’ve somehow changed?
Those who talk don’t have a clue who I truly am,
What keeps gnawing at my soul when I’m alone,
Whether all I tell myself is truth or just a sham,
Whether I can still take wing and make the sky my own.
I have had enough, I have had enough,
I have had enough, I have had enough!
Just because I always wear a suit and tie,
Just because it looks as though I’ve climbed so high,
Doesn’t mean this heart has ever missed a beat;
Every pulse still drives the blood and cuts me deep.
They say I don’t laugh the way I did back then,
That I’m never moved and choke my tears within,
That too much thinking keeps me far apart
From all the warmth and feeling of the human heart.
I have had enough, I have had enough,
I have had enough, I have had enough!
I’ve seen these dawns and sunsets all before,
People on their knees to barons, popes and saints,
Selling out the world for one brief taste of glory,
Elbowing their way to claim a place in history.
For what little it may count, I’ve always fought
To give a voice to those whom no one heard at all,
And selfishly, when old age finally comes around,
To face myself in the mirror and not look down.
I have had enough, I have had enough,
I have had enough, I have had enough!

If you wear a tie, you have betrayed the street. If you have made it, you have forgotten where you came from. If you do not cry in public, you no longer feel a thing. If you think too much, then you have stopped loving.

It is curious how precisely other people can tell you who you are, especially when they have no idea what keeps you awake at night.

I’ve Had Enough is the lucid outburst of someone who refuses to be put on trial for how he appears. It is the weary, angry song of a man forced to prove, again and again, that beneath the surface the fire still burns, beneath self-control the blood still runs, and beneath discipline remain the scars of old wounds.

This is not surrender.

It is the moment when the limit is reached, patience runs out, and the man who seemed tamed reminds everyone—perhaps himself above all—that he has not yet stopped fighting.

Even if only so that he can still look himself in the mirror.