rat race blues

the starters gun goes off again
and he scrambles to join the race
he's only been awake 3 minutes
and already fallen off the pace
his medicated mind is chanting
as he steps up to the line

loose lips sink ships a glasshouse chips
and a stitch in time saves nine
he's been circling his choices carefully of late
because he's feeling far too old
to be walking the same path over

with this blister on his soul
he holds his moor in the rising tide
and it gets him through the day
with his head in his hands he dreams for escape

because he knows there's a better way
than pushing hard and digging deep
to cover all expenses

for more therapy repeat zanex
and more white picket fences