Rat's Ass/Customs - Buck 65

Standin' on the side of the road with a long shadow and suitcases

Going nowhere, and I don’t care, I’m a grown man

Hold my own hand, kickin' my own ass for cryin'

I’m dyin' on the inside, they don’t know who I am

Filthy, fraught, and haunted by a guilty conscience

Runnin' away, and all because of silly nonsense

Gone since — God knows when

And I ain’t comin' back knowin' that, no one gives a rat’s ass anyway

I just wanna find a place where I can sit in a rocking chair

No matter how far, even if it means walking there

Maybe I’ll get me a dog for some company

It’s better than tryin' to figure out somebody

Give me a good book, a radio, and a sewing machine

A place in the woods by the ocean and no inbetween

I gotta get rid of these dark circles and headaches

Maybe if I meditate, rather than medicate

I can no longer hesitate, I get so frantic

But what if my wishes are overly romantic

Though, the suns too low in the sky for second guesses I reken

And I’m used to taking chances

Breakin' a few branches, and gettin' lucky now and then

Findin' some trouble, was just a matter of how and when

And now I take notes, and make boats from Burch bark

But stress still shows in my face like a birthmark

As soon as I get where I’m going I’m going to wash my hands thoroughly

And start getting out of bed earlier

It’s curious the way I’ve tried vicariously

To fly so low to the ground and so carelessly

How embarassing, I can’t wait to call it quits

Knowing that more and more tiring is all it gets

I’ve applied various and unique strategies

Read a few Greek tragedies and fasted for two weeks

Been rollin' around

In the hole in the ground

No surprise both my eyes

Are swollen shut, I’m stranded with no supplies

I need a lift…

What have I done?