Standin' on the side of the road with a long and suitcases, going nowhere, and I care, I'm a grown man. Hold my own hand, my own ass for cryin', I'm dyin' on the inside, don't know who I am. Filthy, fraught, and haunted by a conscience, away, and all because of silly nonsense. Gone since - God when, and I aint comin' back that, no one gives a rat's ass anyway.
I just wanna a place where I can sit in a rocking chair, no matter how far, even if it means there. I'll get me a dog for some company, it's better than to figure out somebody. me a good book, a radio, and a sewing machine, a in the woods by the ocean and no inbetween. I gotta get rid of dark circles and headaches, Maybe if I meditate, rather medicate. I can no hesitate, I get so frantic, but what if my wishes are romantic. Though, the suns too low in the sky for guesses I reken and I'm to taking chances. Breakin' a few branches, and gettin' now and then, findin' some trouble, was just a of how and when. And now I take notes, and make boats from bark but stress shows in my face like a birthmark. As soon as I get where I'm going I'm going to wash my hands and getting out of bed earlier. curious the way I've tried vicariously, to fly so low to the and so carelessly. How embarassing, I can't wait to it quits, knowing that more and more is all it gets. I've applied various and strategies, a few Greek tragedies and fasted for two weeks. Been rollin' in the hole in the no both my eyes are swollen shut, I'm stranded no supplies.
I a lift...
What have I