It's been a hell of a year, but I'm mentally prepared
To do a dance around the next couple medical scares.
I'm Fred Astaire with the metal wearing quickly off my tap shoes.
So I step quietly, the way that cats move.
But I'm bear-like. My head trapped in dear lights.
You can call me John, I'm writing letters to the dark side of the moon tonight.
My lovely Jane, you went away but the pain stayed.
So I'm sending you a package to the address where you traded names.
I made no claims on the identity theft.
I'm more concerned about the home with no amenities left.
And it's already a mess. The dust piles like your junk mail.
So I eat away depression and crush the scale.
You find yourself on the opposite side of the spectrum.
Emaciated on a strict diet of bed crumbs.
Me? I choose to wallow and I'll just swim in my fat.
You...refuse to swallow so I see ribs from the back.
This isn't an attack, it's an admission of guilt.
I'm living in the past, kissing your a**, sipping your milk.
But it's all bone and curdle. I saw stones in a circle.
Stood in the middle. Told myself riddles in a robe that's purple.
The murder weapon was an icicle.
Is that the reason why I'm standing in this puddle with my eyes so full?
I fight feelings like a war on drugs.
I'm a chemist with a test tube addiction born through coffee mugs.
Our baby now is all growed up.
Your car is still dead in my driveway while I wait for the tow truck.
And you know what? I know I drove you away,
I still don't think it was wrong so I don't know what to say.
It's been a tough year. You say that life ain't fair,
Well, guess what, baby...life ain't. Thems the breaks.
You say that life ain't worth it. But it is. You gotta work it.
Nobody's life is perfect.
Yeah, you've been dealt a bad hand. Placed against a stacked deck.
Been through all the CAT scans and bad checks.
But I slashed your debt. Not your wrists.
And I couldn't help with anything else that became cancerous.
Halfway people with a full baby to bury,
Took a flame to the papier-mache sanctuary.
When the smoke clears...try not to stare into the light.
But, also, don't stay in the dark as if that's what life is like.
It's just a series of unfortunate events,
But the messages we get are more important than death.
What's the rush?
I've got a shortness of breath.
What's the rush?
Running from you...running from me.
It's the rush. The crush. The l***. The love-trust.
So what's the trouble? The busted bubble? The unjust?
That's just the way the cookie crumbles. It does suck,
But suck it up. We're all looking, but nothing's enough.
We used each other as a crutch. The clutch. The shift switches.
You couldn't just adjust. You combusted and ripped pictures.
This is why I'm not considered a saint?
Well, guess what?......I ain't.
It's been a hell of a year.
You said that I ain't there, I ain't care, and life ain't fair.
It's been a hell of a trip.
You say my mind's unfit, I've been flip, and I ain't s***.
It's been a hell of a life.
You say that I ain't like the way I write and that ain't right.
It's been a hell of an attempt.
You say that I ain't meant for promises unkept.
Well, guess what, darlin...
I'm a keep keep callin
Guess what, darlin...
I'm a keep keep callin.
To do a dance around the next couple medical scares.
I'm Fred Astaire with the metal wearing quickly off my tap shoes.
So I step quietly, the way that cats move.
But I'm bear-like. My head trapped in dear lights.
You can call me John, I'm writing letters to the dark side of the moon tonight.
My lovely Jane, you went away but the pain stayed.
So I'm sending you a package to the address where you traded names.
I made no claims on the identity theft.
I'm more concerned about the home with no amenities left.
And it's already a mess. The dust piles like your junk mail.
So I eat away depression and crush the scale.
You find yourself on the opposite side of the spectrum.
Emaciated on a strict diet of bed crumbs.
Me? I choose to wallow and I'll just swim in my fat.
You...refuse to swallow so I see ribs from the back.
This isn't an attack, it's an admission of guilt.
I'm living in the past, kissing your a**, sipping your milk.
But it's all bone and curdle. I saw stones in a circle.
Stood in the middle. Told myself riddles in a robe that's purple.
The murder weapon was an icicle.
Is that the reason why I'm standing in this puddle with my eyes so full?
I fight feelings like a war on drugs.
I'm a chemist with a test tube addiction born through coffee mugs.
Our baby now is all growed up.
Your car is still dead in my driveway while I wait for the tow truck.
And you know what? I know I drove you away,
I still don't think it was wrong so I don't know what to say.
It's been a tough year. You say that life ain't fair,
Well, guess what, baby...life ain't. Thems the breaks.
You say that life ain't worth it. But it is. You gotta work it.
Nobody's life is perfect.
Yeah, you've been dealt a bad hand. Placed against a stacked deck.
Been through all the CAT scans and bad checks.
But I slashed your debt. Not your wrists.
And I couldn't help with anything else that became cancerous.
Halfway people with a full baby to bury,
Took a flame to the papier-mache sanctuary.
When the smoke clears...try not to stare into the light.
But, also, don't stay in the dark as if that's what life is like.
It's just a series of unfortunate events,
But the messages we get are more important than death.
What's the rush?
I've got a shortness of breath.
What's the rush?
Running from you...running from me.
It's the rush. The crush. The l***. The love-trust.
So what's the trouble? The busted bubble? The unjust?
That's just the way the cookie crumbles. It does suck,
But suck it up. We're all looking, but nothing's enough.
We used each other as a crutch. The clutch. The shift switches.
You couldn't just adjust. You combusted and ripped pictures.
This is why I'm not considered a saint?
Well, guess what?......I ain't.
It's been a hell of a year.
You said that I ain't there, I ain't care, and life ain't fair.
It's been a hell of a trip.
You say my mind's unfit, I've been flip, and I ain't s***.
It's been a hell of a life.
You say that I ain't like the way I write and that ain't right.
It's been a hell of an attempt.
You say that I ain't meant for promises unkept.
Well, guess what, darlin...
I'm a keep keep callin
Guess what, darlin...
I'm a keep keep callin.