At times I run away just to get by,
even if just for a little while.
This is headlights in the fall.
This is me putting me into it all.
Until I leave this fog to find out what I’m all about.

Coffee, ink and two friends, I’ll get by.
Always, said Mom, ‘It’s love before money.’
So that’s how I do.
How I usually do it.
I get by.
Love before money.

Thoughts and blood battle for my lungs’ air.
The stuff we bleed, the stuff we breathe.
The stuff we feel, we need it.
I’m always hurrying, what’s the use in worrying
when there’s never enough time?
We’re always late, but we’re always fine.
It’s fine. That’s fine.
In time, it’s always gonna be fine.

It’s just headlights in the fall.
Leave this fog and I’ll leave me.
Find out what I’m supposed to be.
Stumble out, late, then suddenly it will all be fine.

Put all of me in all of the time.
I haven’t found my prime.
I wait in my own line.
Everything is fine.
A minute in my mind.

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