I often walk the streets of regret
I know my way
Down the blank streets,
Of this blank town,
That few people know by name
The ones that know are the ones who survive the pain,
With pockets full of dread,
With feet full of lead
There are people on the empty streets
Fighting to be the next Bruno Mars, or Beyonce
While peacemakers argue with them,
I secretly stand out
I’m fighting to be the next Bob Dylan, or Patsy Cline
I know that those two are mine
Artists with feeling,
Don’t live in the same world as the robots with glass and glazed, laser eyes
There are cracks in the sidewalk kids are playing near
There are booze bottles littering the streets
I walk past with hurry stuck in my messy hair like gum
I don’t know much, but I'm sure I'm walking after midnight
Alongside a rainy wind blowing,
My wills are growing
I stop to see my hopelessness weeping
Instead of possums and passions sleeping
I turn a corner to find winter waiting waving at me
I turn a leaf to find some grey pill bugs that resemble me
Where do you go when you don’t have a home?
Do you just sit defeated the moment you are set free from your room?
Defeated because in the beginning you pushed too hard
In the start I saw the morning light hitting the dew drops in the backyard
The illusion of freedom in my black play pants
I guess that’s kind of my thing now, but now they come with ants
I don’t remember running out of hope
But I did realize that life is certainly not a fairytale where dreams come true
And true love’s kiss saves everything
You must live without your dreams and just do what a man’s got to do to keep yourself alive
The frustration of walking in circles, round and round
And constantly seeing clowns with painted frowns
As if they were mocking misery with their humor
They tell everyone how great the streets are but it’s a funny rumor