I sit here, in the corner of my thoughts. Running like a train on no coal. My soul, my whole being, a ceiling with no end. Glass house, mad house, ust throw the rock. Drop the lock but grip the key, I twist and turn but never break free. These doors are endless, I can’t pick the right one. I walk the streets smiling but loaded, Cocked like a gun. Humming my favorite jingle, while I scan the bar for a lady to mingle. Another wasted day in my life, Another wasted cut of the knife. Another wasted word of the day, I sit and decay, and pray and say, I’ll do better tomorrow, instead of changing today. When will this end? When will the wrong choices subside? Until then, I’ll sit and I’ll hide, Here in the corner of my thoughts.