Folk Song

It's like picking up the pieces is a daily chore

Thinking of your time card forms a habit

Watching rick folks on T.V.'s like picking a sore

Fuck it all, they can have it

And now I'm loaded like a gun again

Like a plague of locusts heaven sent

Just a ball of dissension with a death perception

I won't sweat the definition of content

They said "better safe than sorry" and "look out for #1"

I heard "only play the cards your shown"

Fuck what they say

It doesn't matter anyway

Only in your grave are you alone

Like grown men staring with little boy's eyes

And actresses speaking with conviction

These people should demand a pulitzer prize

For various works of fiction

"Judge a book by it's cover"

And "keep one eye on your back"

I heard "only play the cards your shown"

I say fuck what they say

It doesn't matter anyway

Only in your grave are you alone

So many people with so much to show

Rotting away in their own little holes

One can only wonder why

I'll celebrate my home

But know that I'm not alone

Only fools are "along for the ride"

In think of the size

Of the world that's right outside

Please don't waste it trying to hide