|
Got my ticket. Got my pot of gold. I'm learning how to spend it on not much good at all. No good. My motor's running. No map to know the road. I've just been out driving to no place at all. No place. |
|
I feel half awake in an unconscious land. God made me a maze; will I ever find an end? Struggle though I may I might never understand. Cause something ain't right in the condition of man. |
|
Cold clammy pistol. Three-four-five rounds. Seven ancient motives. Six holes in the ground where I'm found. |
|
Black moon is hung over every fork and bend. God made me a maze that I'll never find an end. Struggle though I may I might never understand. Something ain't right in the condition of man. |
|
I feel half awake in an unconscious land. God made me a maze that I'll never find an end. Struggle though I may I might never understand. there's something complex in the condition of man. Something ain't right in the condition of man. But I'll be laying my tracks as I go. And even though they're in circles I know. That I'll be spinning my wheels 'till I go. An untravelled man on the go |
