With a growinâ sense of dread and a hammer in my head,
fully clothed upon the bedâ¦
I wake up to the world that lately Iâve been livinâ in.
Thereâs a cut upon my brow, mustâve banged myself somehow,
but I donât remember nowâ¦
and the front doorâs open wide; lately Iâve let things slide.
I go to the bin, I throw the laundry in,
take out the cleanest shirtâ¦
then I tell myself again, I donât really hurt.
Smokinâ I once quit, but now I got one lit,
I just fell back into itâ¦
along with all my pride; lately Iâve let things slide.
I go to the bin, I throw the laundry in,
dig out the cleanest shirtâ¦
and all at once Iâm seized with the most exquisite hurt.
That untouched takeaway I brought home the other day
has quite a lot to sayâ¦
the elegance is clear, only resign,
piled high and wide,
about how lately Iâve let things slide.
Iâm just about holdinâ on,
but lately Iâve let things slide.