BROKEN WING
So much more than just a nine to five, eight hours plus a two hour drive. So much more than living this lie, I’ve broke my back and lost my voice from screaming:
“I’m alive”

They can tell you what you want to hear, but honey, that ain’t the whole truth.
They’ll convince you what you need to own, until they own you.
I keep strumming my guitar, but I know I’m running from my youth.
They say a broken wing brings solitude, Don’t mind if I do.

Broken wrist, tattered clothes, they say my scattered art is my wretched prose.
Death is the cost, it’s gotta be paid in full, but it hurts to see money exchanged for souls. Living life to play a role, it takes a toll.

They can tell you what you want to hear, but honey, that ain’t the whole truth.
They’ll convince you what you need to own, until they own you.
I keep strumming my guitar, but I know I’m running from my youth.
They can tell you what your supposed to do.
They can tell you what your supposed to do, but honey, that ain’t you.

They say a broken wing brings solitude, Don’t mind if I do.
They say that death is the crow that teaches you to fly.

Broken wing, but it taught me how to fly. I tend to rock it with not much in my pocket; if I got something I’ll hock it. Wind beneath my feet, memories in a locket, somewhere in between Hunter S. Thompson and Davey Crockett.
A light socket don’t do much til the bulb is turned, get it how you get it. Good things in life they should be earned, and spread like my ashes in the sacred ferns just to watch it burn, no I won’t ever learn. Yes, I’m honest, but I tend to be a piece of shit, when I find the problem I tend to be a part of it. This is the crop-dusted generation X-men, moving like Ms. Pac Man, burning life at both ends. What we say is never what we do, gotta step on a few, and drown a few heads to find the truths’ scattered remains spread out on the Highway. When I die, I hope my soul can fly away.

They can tell you what you want to hear, but honey that ain’t the whole truth.
They’ll convince you what you need to own, until they own you.
I keep strumming my guitar, but I know I’m running from my youth.
They can tell you what your supposed to do.
They can tell you what your supposed to do, but honey that ain’t you.

They say a broken wing brings solitude, Don’t mind if I do.
They say that death is the crow that teaches you to fly.
Or you can lay down and die~