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 ripping through my hair.
When the wheels ceased to spin and I incase my surroundings, I realized I hadn't gone anywhere
(. . w h e n _ i _ g o t _ h o m e . .)
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 & rotten remains
..when I got home.