Like. going blind. Like from that science show Where a man said he couldn't see, But walked down a hallway, With obstacles.
Where. You. Keep doing whatever you're supposed To be doing.
But your eyes. Your real eyes. That ***** of the intellect. Slipped right out of your head Down a curvy, Sticky, bumpy metal slide. And he isn't having a good time of it.
I don't think he planned to. It's just so hard in there. And you have him running around So much. Lately.
And you're sick. But you're fine.
You turn the tap and there it goes. You hide in this, and where do you go? I can put together a life. I can make a hell of a pitch. And Lie Lie Lie on a resume. To a board. In a suit. I can lie and not even try. But what is it? A lie until you find the right thing? the right thing? What's that? Is it like The One? Where songs start, "making sense?" "Oh you'll know it when-" - "Make your hobby into your job-" - "If you love what you do you'll never work a day in your life." But let me work. Maybe. Let me do my thing that I'm supposed to, only I can do, And let it just be done. Is it so much to ask? Like a guy in a suit goes into the office, And clicks away at keyboards. And clicks away at pens in meetings. And clicks away An click away the day?
And all day he wants to go home.
Because home is better. We ALL know that. He's a working man. We ALL know that. He should want to go home! We ALL know that. we all want to go home too.
He checked in, and did all the work he was supposed to do. So go home you're done. You did your thing. You were built for it. You reached it. Take.Some.Time.Man
I want to do it. Whatever I'm here to do. But I'd like to get it done quickly. And just, check out.