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