I drive all day,
with brahms in the passenger seat, and
cool beer in the back
Through neighborhoods that have
seen better, and people who
believe in the better

They call me babyface killer, because my face is
clean, I’m not drooping at
the seams quite yet. It’s all aesthetics, because my mind
feels like a century old; I don’t talk much
Cause there’s nothing to say about
football or the people, who carry on about the weather

I’ve noticed in the mornings, I don’t quite understand I’m
in control of my time, that I carry it, it doesn’t carry
me.
You’ll notice one day too
You’re not the one, who picks and chooses
when the sun rises.