One time I was listening to Bach’s Cantata 82
Over and over Ich Habe Genug, I loved him for saying what I couldn’t shake.
I was sure that I knew what it meant
That i’ve had enough, I’ve met my edge, I’m over this shit.

Ich Habe Genug, ich habe genug.
Now I’m older I can see how many things I’ve mistaken to be
Dollhouses of truth with foundations of sand, meanings I tacked on so carelessly.

Is it any wonder why it wasn’t clear?
I’ve been chasing all my life what all along was right here.

Ich Habe Genug, ich habe genug.
Ich Habe Genug, ich habe genug.

But let’s be honest, you and I were never this type.
And aren’t your feet tired from running after someone else’s dream of a life?
See, when mother culture had birthed me, she gave me the curse of insatiable appetite
The very same American Dream that Fitzgerald revealed with the green blinking light.

But the words wait patiently for me to find
When the rest implodes, then chant the ashes of my mind

Ich Habe Genug, ich habe genug.
Ich Habe Genug, ich habe genug.
Ich Habe Genug, ich habe genug.
Ich Habe Genug, ich habe genug.