Beatin’ down on my soul like a blue, blue rain,
Like a Bob Dylan line that won’t let go of my brain.
Lust is my problem and love’s my solution.
While I figure which is which, I might drown in confusion.
This feels like a coffin instead of a bed.
I think I’m just sleepin’ but I feel like I’m dead.
I’m stuck here suffocatin’ in my very own skin.
This reminds me of a game I don’t remember how to win.
Folks scared to live cause they’re afraid of dyin’.
Rules were made to be broke and yet we keep on complyin’.
"…he not busy being born is busy dying." -Bob Dylan