Every morning, wake to the itch
The alarm clock ticks
Make some coffee, check the weather, do my best to keep it together
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
Soon it will begin
I can’t expect the world to comprehend the fits that I myself can’t defend
Every afternoon, avoid traffic, but feel frantic
My composure: a lost love letter
Do my best to keep it together
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
I can hear the questions now since journalism died somehow
The shout proclaimed: the poison praised
They make my words an unmarked grave
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
Every evening I’ll have a drink, start to feel better, do my best to keep it together
