oh well, oh well. (LOL)

Sometimes I feel like an object of desire.

Sometimes I feel like a down right cruel liar.

Sometimes I feel like nothing ever is

all that bad until then reality hits.

Sometimes I feel sad when you’re away.

Sometimes I feel glad like it’s all the same.

Sometimes I feel like a sad sack sucking up

to the kid with the cool hair that I want.

I don’t know man I guess only time can tell

where we go and when it’s time to give em hell

I just hope that I have the strength to talk

when it comes time to talk who’s gonna walk the walk?

Sometimes it’s all just too much to think about.

Get a real job, good career kid now settle down.

Don’t make your grandmother worry make your mother proud,

even though well hell she’s gonna love you any way.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve got it figured out.

Sometimes I feel like a widow black with doubt.

Sometimes I feel like throwing it all away

if I could just hold out perhaps another day.

Sometimes I feel like Times Square counting down.

Sometimes I feel like a cliche riddled clown.

Sometimes I feel like nothing ever is

but I know better than, but I know better now.

I don’t know man I think you gotta see this through

either way we end up free alone entombed

do you remember sleeping in the afternoon

cause I do I do I do I did and I still do…

Sometimes it makes sense like I’m a wishing well

today it breaks my heart to have to wish you well

tomorrow I won’t lie I won’t be feeling well

then after that who knows I guess

oh well, oh well.

We’ve all got our own way of getting out.

It’s difficult to get out sometimes.

Like clawing at the walls of a well.

Fighting because you’re up there and I’m down here.

And even though you throw me many ropes,

they’re all covered in shit and slime.

My hands clench tightly, fingers ooze with stank

only to slide back down.

I stew in a bed of roses for a while,

picking at the petals one by one.

Then we’re back at it, ropes covered in roses, shit and slime.

I sort of use the slack from the rope to heave myself,

slowly from slime covered stone to stone,

eventually making my way out.

Only to find you sleeping next to a tree.

The rope tied tight around it’s base.

And I watch your eyes dance under your eyelids.

I’m in awe of your use of knots,

your ability to sleep so sound.

So I sit a while, next to you, and it’s peaceful there.

We’ve all got our own way of getting out.