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101 N
Walter Mitty and His Makeshift Orchestra
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And I drove all the way home
Listening to the Gas Light Anthem
Thinking "I can't stop letting people down"
Surely I'm not as cool as I was back in school
I'm on the 101 falling asleep
I got the letters that you wrote for me
Now here I am under golden arches
Car in park, teary eyed, McGriddle in hand
My mind's a slow device
I like to picture life somewhat like a Rockwell painting
But Great Expectations just blister the paint
I just wanna drink chocolate milk with my lovely
I just wanna burn this apartment
And I just wanna go through my life merely dreaming
At any given mention of the government
So I drive, heavy eyed, repeating "tramps like us were born to run"
But I've got no one to run with
And I'm cold, so I've been told that
I should "greet the sun, and get shit done"
I think I'd rather just sleep in
'Cause we're all just 25 words
The obituary section
And everyday is just the passing of time
I think they call this depression
I'm not lonely, just kind of overwhelmed again
'Cause I'm living proof you can still sing the blues
In 2011
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