Cooke

I’m circling the drain

with all my problems in hand

Well I gotta’ pretty good hand I’d say

But these new caskets crack the same

The first few stones are the worst

They fall in unnoticed

And scare you for more than they’re worth

And all at once you will not hear your own words

Closet weather at best and you’re a victim

You say we’re all in the basket

But it’s so fun

To remind us over and over again

Time’s a wasting so now I must be leaving

I’m crawling outside

In the same way that I creeped in

And the rain falls down and it’s heavy on my eye lids

Pulled to the ground down the fucking drain

Maybe it’s just my luck

But I got a spotless record

Maybe it’s harder to stay

And we got it all wrong from the start

Maybe it’s all in the cards

Or just an excuse for playing

Maybe it’s all in our hearts

Maybe I don’t know what I’m saying

I’m circling the drain

But I’m picking these bones up

Cause man, they don’t live there today

And I don’t want to hear the fibers crack

Cause God knows I’d rather die than be dying

It’s not a cliché ,no sir it is a logical preference

Because the way things were this year

Makes me think how good it all could be

and how well it could end

Maybe it’s just my luck

But I got a spotless record

Maybe it’s harder to stay

And we got it all wrong from the start

Maybe it’s all in the cards

Or just an excuse for playing

Maybe it’s all in our hearts

Maybe I don’t know what I’m saying