I can’t help, but feel surpassed
Left behind, in the field I stand
No fist ever fed or went to lend a hand
No move for growth ever went the way I planned
Always out the other side, lost sick or sad
Someday I’ll find, a way to be the bigger man
I ain’t got fans, but I got a few friends
I’m honest enough, to see the difference in them
I ain’t lied to myself, since I learned what I was
And I’m staying down, after that last buzz
Clearing out the smoke, from all those days
Little boy problems, a blur in the haze
Now that we’re facing, adult situations
Where choices made, could be fatal mistakes in
A…line of work where it’s…worse to need
And every morning is more hurt in your knees
But they’re so sure, you’re that Hercules
That you’ve grown a persona, to maintain and fulfill
So you can’t admit that the hurt won’t heal
and you make believe that the pain ain’t real
But truth takes the reigns and makes you feel
Every time you lay to waste, and wait for paint to peel
So you keep on moving, and never stop doing
Keep on moving and never stop doing
keep on keeping on, Keep on moving
and never stop doing, but if you keep moving
But when you finally slow, it’s feels like your losing
The world’s been falling, and you’ve been snoozing
Wasting time with, a whirlwind girlfriend
But take a step back, they’re the rock that your pitiful
Art never could have been, and you should have been
More responsible, and approachable
More mature and focused, on a common goal
Picked up more, after your nasty self
Should have realized, who slipped and needed help
Should have realized, who the real problem was
And whose rough hand made the touch so tough
 
this guitar, can write these words
And convey my heart, in a structured verse
But it will never replace, all the little things
I simply forgot, along, the way
…or never felt strong enough to say
I never felt strong enough to just say
I love you so much I want you to stay
stay away...
(x2)
like I ain’t worth the pain, I’ll eventually cause
every choice never made , felt like coin toss
victim of the pen that only stains when it wants
and I ain’t one to stay just to waste what’s yours
like when I finish a song, I don’t expect applause
matter of fact I don’t expect even half of ya’ll
holding a cold brew, cigarette on call
to have been or still be listen at all