Me Vs. The Windmill

I’m fighting windmills piss drunk at the dude ranch.

Drinking boxed wine from your holy chalice.

Boasting some new chemical imbalance.

Wet cigarette clutched between your callous.

But I had that classic one-night stand, with my own circumstance.

And delusions of grandeur, from my hand.

I left with the black eye, from life’s proverbial bar fight.

(If I ever wanted to, I could turn back time. If I ever wanted to, I could change my life,

and leave it behind).

Nothing else ever feels right.

Locked in the quiet parts of my life.

And how my light aint so bright.

Blacked out in the dead of night.

You do what you do and you do what you do and you do what you do, you don’t have a

clue.

I’m trying to understand intentions and plans.