I Didn't Drag You Out To Dinners

I didn't drag you out to dinners when you wished to stay in bed-
I didn't scream at all your sorrows, all your fears and panicked dread.
I always picked up the line-didn't yell and storm away;
I didn't leave when you were crying-Begging, please, to stay.

Now you break me with your honesty-I knew it all along;
I'm so sorry I've been crying, but it feels my soul is gone.
Life is Hercules' Twelve Labors, but I'm not a powerful god-
All my flaws are raining lyrics-a timeworn sorrowed song.

So I plead now at the doorway-don't leave me, please not now-
Even though I've left you to answer every "why" and "how."
I understand you're angry-heck, I hate me, too-
But I didn't step out your doorway, didn't walk away from you.

Hell, I didn't judge you. Tell you who to be-
You know you always said you wanted no one else but me.
I'm sorry for the pain, the suffering I've brought your way-
Should I have died long ago, on some forgotten gloomy day....

The Lord can do no wrong, but with me, He might have erred-
My eyes tear, my head droops, and I think with a mind impaired.
And so I sit and write, in a dim and sad-filled room,
Where the night falls and the dog sleeps and the air hums a lonesome tune.

I didn't drag you out to dinners when you wished to stay in bed-
And I can't help but think-your other baby should have lived instead.