Every road I take I can never turn back.
Don't matter how hard I hurt, I follow my track.
I'm driving slow, it seems, cause I often dread
That I'll leave someone that needs to be fed.
The voices everywhere really seem to get to me,
So many things to hear, it's hard to be free.
But then again, who am I to have a voice?
I know nothing. No choice is my choice.
Yet harsh words solve nothing, I guess.
But I still go on with them, I must confess.
A man of strong measures many would say.
But God is strong too. That's why I pray.
So keep shouting on in, my mind is on mute.
Oh, and, please bury me in a suite?