Everybody’s running the big race
slowed down by trying to keep up
slowed down by trying to save face
seems like there’s no winner
the finish line’s not marked
and we’re running from the desolation
nightmares our dark ways sparked
a tired old man said I don’t
think we’re really going to make it
some things are just absolute
there’s no way you can fake it
I don’t think there’s any end
at least nothing like that
I don’t think I’ll probably live
to see what gets pulled from that hat
If I gave up everything
went on the missionary trip
would I slow the race down
one iota from this downward slip
and after all of everything
all I can do is hoe my patch
it’s not like it would be the first time
we would have to start from scratch
what
No comments:
Post a Comment