Gutless Bastards

I can’t think

But I can still dream

Can hardly write and barely sing

“Is it everything you could have asked for?”

And I mean, 

Maybe I can see differently

Upon broken axles and a differential piece

Proof of income just to sign the fucking lease

Incoming calls but I probably won’t speak

With minds lost due to a constant channeling of defeat

I’m living in my head, in your heart and nearly on the streets

Gutless bastards taking pride in a loss of light in a lonely retreat

In between repair shops and motel keys

Stolen cars and broken dreams;

Forgetting where our heavy souls meet

Upon hardened hearts and heavy feet

And you thought this might have come easy

In the absence of one last retreat

“It could always be worse”,

And therein I admit defeat


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