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I'm not always tired, but I'm usually peopled-out.
It won't be long til I move on from this and gracefully bow out.
It don't take much to get along, I don't need much to keep me strong, I don't talk much, I'm better off hiding where you can find me,
At my window, every morning.
Driving for days, still exploring.
The remnants of my five year plan are shorter than my attention span.
I'm most always bluffing still my conscience weighs nothing more than a ghost.
My love for adventure makes me a flakey friend at best.
Profoundly sad to admit, I'll never get better than this.
Cause in the funny way I see, it's better if I leave before I hit my peak or my good luck dies.
Won't go to bed until I relearn to sleep on my side.
And that's the point of driving for days, never knowing.
Why
do
you
hate
so
much?
How
did
you
chip
your
tooth?
How
are
you
so
sure
of
your
purpose
and
when
did
you
know
whats best for you? And why do you care so much? What are you trying to prove? Wont
you
wake
me
from
my
daydream
when
you
leave
for
something
new.
I
wanna
come
too.