It seems as though I’ve said it all and I’m irked, what’s left to say?
I been playing my old tapes, finding refuge in the words of yesterday
Walking paths previously paved instead of breaking new ground
So scared of the unknown I tuck myself into the comfort of familiar sights and sounds
Inspiration used to be in the wind...the life, the love, and the scars
Used to hold onto my reserve of bright ideas like lightning bugs in a jar
Now I’m disassociated, disenchanted with this ever fleeting planet
Knowing that no matter what I say that one day my legacy will vanish
My parched mouth begs for waterspouts, some way out of this drought
This music I used to vibe to, that kept me alive sounds different than when I started out
The ideas have run out, the well has never looked more dry
I feel like my pen has run it’s course...won’t be nothing forced about this goodbye
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