Ray St. Ray

I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor.
Rich was way more fun.
Poor was much too real.
I wish that everyone in the world could feel
somewhere in the middle.
Not too much, not too little.
Somewhere in the middle,
not the wrong side of enough.
I’ve been obese and I have starved.
Fat was way more jolly
than sleeping in an alley
and begging you for money
to buy a cup of coffee
or drugs to ease the pain,
trapped inside a game
where everyone wants everything
and someone else to blame.
So I’ve gotten high and fallen down.
High was too much fun,
down far from ideal.
I wish that everyone in the world could feel
somewhere in the middle.
Not too much, not too little.
Somewhere in the middle,
not the wrong side of enough.
Slaves are fighting other slaves on reality TV
and the sponsors are so happy now the audience believes
illusion’s better than the truth of the prices they don’t see
for sacrificing character to personality.
Why do they paint their mirrors and vote religiously
for those who prey upon their fears, embarrassment and greed?
How can they let the men who steal the world control their needs?
‘Cause the best behaved of all the slaves are the one’s who think they’re free.
Why can’t we all just be
somewhere in the middle?
Not too much, not too little.
Somewhere in the middle,
not the wrong side of enough.
I’ve known love and loneliness.
Love is more romantic,
except when it is desperate
or just taken for granted
and you find yourself alone in bed
with someone you don’t know
who thinks you should be someone else
and you wish you could just go
anyplace where you can love
and be loved for yourself
somewhere in the middle.
Not too much, not too little.
Somewhere in the middle,
not the wrong side of enough,

not the wrong side of enough.

©2012, 2026