|
On the train |
|
Watchin' the rainbows bend, (thank you window seat) |
|
I mean, it's all the same to some |
|
But that cityscape makes me numb |
|
Walkin' the wire between firewater and water - |
|
I'll take the tap and still manage to end up thirsty the day the nursery collapsed |
|
In my hand |
|
I hold the plumage of a buzzard somthin' for circlin' nutrition (seems barbaric) |
|
I may have just saved your children |
|
There's an inborn tendancy tellin' me to grip that sickle for the pirate tyrant breeds feed on your precious little pixels |
|
I interviewed the sun, he said the future's lookin' bright |
|
I interviewed the rain, he claimed the sun's truly an asshole |
|
I's supposed to interview the snow today but of course he flaked |
|
So I let my frigid demeanor teeter and take his vacant place |
|
We 3 sprout from the same litter |
|
Yet amazingly crafted by seperate scissors |
|
I sloth from off the beaten path splashed in the cretin blizzard |
|
Half my time is herded towards little lost causes |
|
Half my time is spent pluggin' these leaky faucets |
|
An' I'm here to pose inquiries |
|
I'm here to draw a fork in the road and call it the diary of common sheep aspiring |
|
Little Billy starlet up the block got the right premise |
|
But can't thread the needle without consultin' apprentice presents. |
|
Now I don't really know you (I don't) |
|
But I dont' really care (I don't) |
|
Can't judge a man's dignity by the wattage in his stare |
|
Maybe that deem's me that vagabond you'd love to kill |
|
But I really ain't got time for the all the motherfucking guilt. |
|
Chorus: I'm gone and |
|
I best believe |
|
I'm leavin' |
|
Packing my belongings then it's off into the evening |
|
I haven't exactly been embraced by the populace |
|
Set sail upon the 7 deadly seas of the anonymous |
|
I'm gone. and |
|
I Best believe |
|
I'm leavin' |
|
Packing my belongings then it's off into the evening |
|
I'm diggin' a tunnel to where the sun will never shine |
|
I got my book, |
|
I got my dream, |
|
I've got myself and |
|
I'll be fine (My time) is the day before the day the earth stood still (My time) is the day before the soldiers fired at will (My time) is the day before the hunter made his kill |
|
My time's the final mile before the valley meets the hill |
|
And I'm an archer |
|
Park it where the farmers barter appetites |
|
Sweet-talkin' harrassment down to a mere flashing of badges |
|
Prototypic landscapes chased every step of my well-oiled collective workforse with frozen intention festive. |
|
Wait. What about the captivated? |
|
Well I am the product of skeleton dancers poised crooked scattered amidst blue fields of firey bliss mixed |
|
With disease applicant activist rattlers, fascinate grave child |
|
Oh you're expecting slave smiles after sticking the pin in limb and |
|
God, if I could offer intermittent fantasies, |
|
I would I'd place the button in the city square for everyone to push |
|
You see my mission responsibilties range across the board |
|
And still |
|
I'd rather be a pen than a sword |
|
I swim a cold lake, and make no mistake: |
|
I was not ready |
|
All edgy and out of shape, made the company look messy (Sorry, well sorry) |
|
Honestly take it or leave it |
|
Just let me know so |
|
I ain't beggin' forgiveness thoughout the evening. |
|
Basic locomotive with a whistle and caboose |
|
Tryin'a pull my cargo 'cross the map without a boost |
|
Fragile in more ways then 10 yet sturdy bird construction |
|
Hope the smoke stacks puff into the morn, dream torn |
|
Chorus: I'm gone and |
|
I best believe |
|
I'm leavin' |
|
Packing my belongings then it's off into the evening |
|
I'll knock upon every little door that comes about |
|
I'll sweep your porch if you can spare a couple of breadcrumbs and a couch. |
|
I'm gone, and i best believe |
|
I'm leavin' |
|
Packing my belongings then it's off into the evening |
|
This turning in my sleep is getting old and older still |
|
I think I can, |
|
I think I can, |
|
I think I can, |
|
I think I will. |
