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Hey Jack it's me, |
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I don't mean to bother you |
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but somethings been on my mind. |
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At the end of this road that climbs the horizon, |
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will be reached in a matter of miles. |
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And when the wheels cease to spin, |
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the walls and the fences will grow higher than redwood trees. |
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And I know your demise. |
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And I fear what will happen when the road fails to flow under me. |
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Oh Jack you see, |
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I felt like your mirror with the wind ripping through my hair. |
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When the wheels ceased to spin and I incase my surroundings, |
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I realized I hadn't gone anywhere. |
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When the problems I'd left with couches in alleys, |
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where no one would ever claim. |
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And the hardest part was sifting through the pieces of the rain soaked and rotten remains |
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when I got home. |
