A message for you young truckers,
You long lovers,
You schmucks, *****, and go-getters...
This is as good as it gets.
The truth is, school *****.
And so does your 9 to 5 part-time job,
But this is the time to find prime opportunities to get carried away and run
To say all the wrong things at all the right seconds
And to never, EVER get caught drinking your parents' ***.
Be bummy, be a druggy, be a top score, or be the eye sore of the student body
But you will never be nobody...
You will NEVER be nobody.
Let somebody tell you they don't remember your name,
Then give that chump a reason to never forget
Because in this game of high school social status, there's no such thing as a winner
And you deserve whatever respect you let people neglect you of.
**** 10 year reunions, that cute girl in math class still won't think of you
Unless you act now, before you're ten years too late.
If you want something, you better learn to work for it,
Because these are the easy years, the queazy years, the "let's ditch and smoke a bleezy" years.
And before you know it, you'll be tap dancing on a keyboard when you should be working
Warning the youngins that their glory years are just about done.

The other day, I found myself
Somewhere between 13 paces
And thirteen minutes.
I was a one-step trip on my laces,
And by 14 minutes,
I was alone again.

Have you ever been asked if you have any time for Jesus?
Like, He's just an errand you can run before dinner time.
"Just a moment to talk about our savior".
As if in a moment, you could actually ever convince a sinner they're worth more than the empty bottles of cheap *****.
Somebody told me once, "You know, if it weren't for the power of God, you wouldn't be here"
Well, *******.
Let his blessings rain upon me, because I'll be ****** if I can remember the last time I felt alive.
Someone once wrapped a coat around my shoulders when I couldn't even remember the day.
And I've been told saviors come in many forms,
But I was sober enough to know that man was not Jesus Christ
Because he wasn't that big of an *******.

A big "dry clean only" coat, swimming straight in the mud.
And a beautiful white dress adorned with a merlot colored stain in my lap.
And long, dark, Italian-bred hair drenched in color-changing chemicals.
And an ivory complexion smeared with gray cigarette smoke.
And a handful of teeth painted yellow.
And a pair of strong hands that I never bother to utilize.
And a couple of shoulders carrying too much of the load.
And my poor, poor heart that took the blow for the risks I insisted on taking.
Maybe if I was a little better at taking care of my things,
My things would start taking care of me.

"For a spine", he said, as he grabbed a wilted leaf.
"For her eyes", he said, as he trapped the water from the sea.
"For her heart", he said, as he hollowed out a tree.
"For her smile", he said, as he held a fist of broken teeth
"For her soul", he said, as he pointed at a darkened street.
I am a twisted spirit that God mistakenly set free
Because he never expected greatness to burn its flame inside of me.

For all my life, I looked for you
Someone who would never go away
Then one day, I found you
I fought my tendency to stray
For one year, I chased you
With a promise to behave
For now, it seems I have you
But no guaranteed amount of days
I know I said I loved you
But I'm sorry, I can't stay
For although I fought so hard to keep you
It is me who will always run away

For weeks, I couldn't sleep
Because nobody was tracing circles on my back
My skin went untouched for so long
Then he finally came along
And drew figure eights across my shoulders
I had almost forgotton what it's like
To have a
Good
Night's
Sleep.