There's a picture of my deathbed hanging high upon the wall

 Where my dreams and aspirations come to meet up for a talk

 And all they ever talk about are the ways that they can keep me out of it

 Now I'm looking for perspective, how I'd love to get her take

 Might she offer up an anecdote, or the just right thing to say

 Like it's a lovely composition, but the bigger picture's always hidden by the frame

 Stuck in minutiae with nothing to do but complain

 To all of my friends

 Details are cool, but they won't be in the room when it's time

 To make up and tuck in

 To my deathbed

 There's a hustle in the culture, there's a stone at which I grind

 I've been spinning wheels looking for an edge I hope to find

 In a race that's never ending, even though I keep on pretending that it does

 Now I'm picking up the pieces to the puzzle that I've solved

 So that I can then collect them and put them back inside the box

 And in tomorrow's boredom, I can spread them on the floor and start again

 Stuck in minutiae with nothing to do but complain

 To all of my friends

 Details are cool, they won't be in the room when it's time

 To make up and tuck in

 To my deathbed

 Stuck in minutiae with nothing to do but complain

 To all of my friends

 Details are cool, they won't be in the room when it's time

 To make up and tuck in

 To my deathbed