The gravel and dust is at eye level That happens when you are sliding on your roof The wheels are in the air pointing out your mistakes I thought about a priest but I cut out the middle man
It’s like living on catsup and boiled water The soup really doesn’t help but tells the story There’s no glory in digesting a metaphor for your life But at least it’s not from somebody else’s can
You see the rocks and leaves fall into their destiny The tsunami of time and chance does not think about you It just rolls over you and is shocking in it’s immoral decisions You thought karma was on your side but that’s not the plan
I bought lunch for a stranger the other day I overheard her telling the waitress her troubles I decided to be her angel but she never knew who I was Now I’m miles away and wondering who am I better than?
I know the answer and you don’t have to point me in the right direction It’s not something that I can’t sense on my own Giving twenty dollars away is not exactly setting the world on fire One day I’ll face the music instead of living life on the lam