SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE THINGS TURNED BAD
I was losing my mind and I knew it.
It was a strange feeling,
Knowing I was losing my mind,
And not really caring to do anything about it.
What could I do?
I was on the road
A pack on my back and no place to call home,
Except the whole fuckin’ world.
I slept on trains and in bus stations,
And roach hotels, always the cheapest.
I wasn’t looking for anything out there,
Because I knew there was nothing to find.
The world was one giant waiting room,
People milling about, living out their lives.
It all seemed so ridiculously hopeless at times,
The human race – a race of bastards and thieves,
Killers and rapists and con artists.
“oh, what the hell,” I’d say,
Gazing out the window of a train.
“what the hell was it that happened
Somewhere along the line?”