Pretty soon I'm gonna wake up in a ******* Summer heat wave, sweating bullets down the barrel of the **** I still can't handle. (Like relation- -ships or regret managment or barely making rent!) I don't feel any different-- still a stupid, clumsy kid swing-and-missing, striking out and ******* breathing out my mouth as I turn and I slouch and shuffle back to the dugout.
I'M ON A RAFT ON LAKE DeSMET IT'S GOT A FISH HOOK TEAR IN IT I'M SINKING FAST SO WHERE'S MY DAD!? I ONLY SORTA-KINDA SWIM! Only now the raft's a loan for lessons learned that just won't float and the lake's this ******* town, my stupid habits and the time I always waste on whiny frowns, and hanging hats on embarrassing ****!
I'm 29 and I'm thinking that Catch-Up's just a game I'm not winning. Under a pile of mail with a cheap grin, cringe away and close the blinds and I'm calling in sick-- yeah I'll call in again if it'll spare me from the glaring truth.
I'm 29 for a week more. For fifty-two I swore not to keep score with the scars from skinned up knees or my credit. Lock the door and draw the blinds and I'll call it a win-- yeah I'll call it a win if it'll spare me from the glaring truth *of a decade containing my biggest loss.
I have these bad habits of getting older and of listening to Bomb The Music Industry!