What is it we're always chasing?
Why is it so elusive?
Our Father doesn't give a f**k
time is so abusive
maybe it's time to run
or perhaps to take a seat
yet I've had an epiphany
staring down at my feet
I don't know what it is
I don't know what we are
but everything out of reach
really isn't so far
a paradox of proportions unknown
has dry rotted the wood of my home
but still I'll fight for flesh and bone
because life is a beat up car
