Standin' on the side of the road with a long and suitcases, going nowhere, and I don't care, I'm a man. Hold my own hand, my own ass for cryin', I'm dyin' on the inside, they know who I am. Filthy, fraught, and haunted by a conscience, away, and all because of silly nonsense. Gone - God knows when, and I aint comin' back knowin' that, no one a rat's ass anyway.
I wanna find 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 than tryin' 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, than medicate. I can no hesitate, I get so frantic, but what if my wishes are romantic. Though, the too low in the sky for second guesses I reken and I'm to taking chances. Breakin' a few branches, and lucky now and then, some trouble, was just a matter of how and when. And now I take notes, and make boats Burch bark but stress still in my face like a birthmark. As soon as I get where I'm going I'm going to wash my thoroughly and start out of bed earlier. it's curious the way I've vicariously, to fly so low to the and so carelessly. How embarassing, I wait to call it quits, knowing that more and more is all it gets. I've applied and unique strategies, Read a few Greek and fasted for two weeks. rollin' around in the in the ground no surprise both my are swollen shut, I'm with no supplies.
I a lift...
What I done?