The music comes back to haunt me
But in a sweet way
I wonder if I'll ever be writing and playing like I'd wanted
Yet I see I've done a lot
More than I had thought I would
There may be more to come
Some songs are left unfinished
Some songs are left unsung
Some projects I left behind
Though I could definitely guide and ride along
as I see the fans are growing.
Or I could hop
Like the Year of the Rabbit
might.
And drink from morning to night
Like Charles Bukowski might
and write.
That would be nice.
Living in safety is not living, some say
but it's better than fighting for your life.
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