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way in overheadcaught off guard by the guttereverybody's spending his timejust building and makingsomeday someone will say, for whatnine to five in a blind alleyequals three sheets to the windcan't remember when it starteddon't know where that it endsand there's never a dull daywhen you're beaten by nonfiction
God still reads the headlinesthe front page hope is missingworking away on a rebuilt freewaystraight away from the slash and burn citieshindsight is thereon a roadsign pointed nowhereno one gets off hereno way to slow downthere's peace of mind somewherefor every someone that never thinks about itand there's never a dull daywhen you're beaten by nonfiction
God still reads the headlineswe're all listeningfor every drop of sweat that it takesto speak out in wondernever knowing how or when to duck nextjust sitting here punch drunk, all the wiser
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