Slow roll through the city bumping bluegrass,
got three ancient ladies riding my ass.
Just pass me, it’s blasting, I’m singing.
I’m just taking my time, it’s early and I’m young.
I’m not surprised I’m moving slower than you.
I’d smash the brakes, but your hair’s like, blue.
Been a while since this thing and I’ve run fine.
One of these days I’ll see all of the signs.
Sit in a park.
Coffee, write, watch a waddling duck and
wonder where he’s going, wishing I was with him.
The name on my cup is Chalk, not Chuck,
because I’ve never been too good at talking.
Need to learn to enunciate.
Maybe nobody listens.
Maybe I’ll just change my name again.
Call it quits, press start and select end.
I can’t speak and they can’t write.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just thinking.
I hope you know, I hope you aren’t sinking.
Signs scream and I miss them, then I miss them.
One of these days I’ll make it.
Man, I hope you’re still next to me.
I wouldn’t give up on me.
I believe
when I get all my people on the same team
we’ll all finally see that everything’s a little better
than it’s always seemed.
I’ve seen the end a lot of times,
and this time isn’t it.
I wouldn’t even question it.
Ok, seriously, get off my ass, ladies.
Pass me. I space out at lights sometimes,
in garages, on roads and at night.
What? You wanna get out?
You wanna do this? You wanna fight?
You don’t know that I’d help you cross the road,
I apologize for the spacing out while driving slow.
There’s all this noise behind me.
Andy’s singin’ sweet songs.
I’m just starting my morning.
this is your life chuck johnson 