19 Jun 2009
I'm gonna pack it up:
Every loose thread and tear in the lining of my hand-me-down, winter coat.
I'm gonna pack it up:
Every smear of ink and lead in the journal I've been writing in since '94.

And it might sound crazy, but so am I.
These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.
And it might sound out of place, but so am I.
The rent it might get paid but I'm not getting by.

I've about had enough
living for a house, a yard, and a mailbox; a sky-blue place in Florida.
I've about had enough
living for the safe, suburban compromise.

And it might sound crazy, but so am I.
This house is not a home, it's an alibi.
And it might sound out of place, but so am I.
The rent it might get paid, but this is not my life.

I won't settle,
I won't settle down.
I won't shut my eyes.