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Got so mixed up while making changes.
Got high, a new job and moved again.
Windy City to break the news and celebrate graduation
and never got a chance before it broke,
I remember my first call, to guitar, and the corner.

I’m writing and writing and putting it down
no rhyming, no rhyming, or writing around.
Just stay in, just stay home for another year or so.
What if the road’s never ready?

Got so mixed up while everything was changing.
Got signed and quit and felt so alive
and she died
the day after I thought he died
and I moved
and dropped lights
and they left
and I really started losing it

I’m writing and writing and getting it out.
no rhyming, no rhyming, or writing with doubt.
Just stay in, just stay home for another year or so.
When do I really get going?

Got so mixed up, not new mixed up
And they gave me pills and I went to space.
Talking over me talking to me,
I couldn’t get out my face
For over a thousand days.
Present and ninety nine percent of the time not there.
Makes me mad that I was scared
that that’s how I really am.

I’m writing, I’m writing and putting it down.
No rhyming, no rhyming or editing out.
Just stay in. Just stay home for another year or so?
What if the road’s never ready?

A decade of ours disappeared.

Still mixed up, she visited as I was leaving me
and left and called and finally said it
and I had
never been happier to wait a few weeks
and took a trip and got upset when I got back
and they jumped the dose and blast off,
I was gone by Texas.

I’m writing and writing the words coming out.
No rhyming, no rhyming or reason to pout.
Just stay in, just stay home for another year or so.
What if the road’s never ready?

Way mixed up in Colorado and couldn’t hang.
Sat inside talking to myself for two months.
Keep it together. This is wrong. What is going on?
Wonder what they thought I was up to.
I’d say it’s me, it isn’t you –
seemed an impossible truth, man I had to go.
Hit the road before I ruined it
and I didn’t wanna leave
and I still managed to ruin it.

I’m writing and writing, so I do not shout.
No rhyming, no rhyming or bottoming out.
Just stay in, just stay home for another year or so.
What if I’ve always been dreaming?

Got mixed up in the desert, hit the road and found me.
Left for Fall just fine, spent a night in Colorado
that I don’t think they remember.
Like it was already over.
So I left there, to come here to get me.
Took a cruise to spend the whole time questioning
if that’s coming back to me.
Back, I found me and she called and I flew to a show
and saw it falling apart and came home and fell
into cracked ribs, tailbone, concussion and leg,
I couldn’t move.
And moved again.
And hit the road.
But atleast I was out of my head.

I’m writing, and writing and writing it out.
No rhyming, no rhyming, or worries or bouts.
Just stay in, just stay home for another year or so.
What if the road’s never ready?

Mixed up, retired on, wrong one, heart attack, needles,
run around, travel, desert heat.
18 months of fighting later, walking on both legs.
I pulled me off of those things
3 years of confusion.
Sleeping and eating and alive again
and I don’t know who that was,
only how it happened.

I’m writing and writing and pulling it out.
No rhyming, no rhyming or need to look down.
Just stay in, just stay home for another year or so.
What if the road’s never ready?

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