Couches In Alleys

Hey Jack it’s me
I don’t mean to bother you but somethings been on my mind
At the end of this road that climbs the horizon, will be reached in a matter of
miles
And when the wheels cease to spin, the walls and the fences will grow higher
than redwood trees
And I know your demise
And I fear what will happen when the road fails to flow under me
Oh Jack you see, I felt like your mirror with the wind ripping through my hair
When the wheels ceased to spin and I incase my surroundings, I realized I
hadn’t gone anywhere
When the problems I’d left with couches in alleys, where no one would ever claim
And the hardest part was sifting through the pieces of the rain soaked and
rotten remains when I got home