words

the left lane is for passing,
but i was never too quick to figure that out,
stuck behind sunday drivers, singin' "let it rain, let it rain, let it rain,"
but it's still dry out, and you're still gone, and everything's the same,

nothing ever goes one way or another,
but this ol' heart is spread over open roads and leather,
don't kill the messenger, just destroy the message,
it's really just the other side of the coin that you see,
(and i don't see)

life is no apology,
but i was sorry on the day you walked away from me,
and all of my shit, and ideas, of what this should be,
and what it shouldn't have been,
(and that which ceases to be)