Control, has left me...so won't you turn around...

Little pieces of me crying
As my head and feet going flying
And sailing and failing and dying

I needed something sure
My want for it was pure
So I lure, so I cure, and endure

Must it feel like falling?
Why does it keep calling?
One ring, two ring…then sting

I cannot grasp the stillness
I cannot take the illness
Desireless and emptiness and will-less

Maybe if I was more able
Maybe I am the fable
My head, heavy on the table