You are the product of a happenstance

Your father's eyes and your mother's hands

You dream about the other side of the road

And you hold it close

While you hold the wheel close

Antiseptic analytical mind

With your steel-toed boots and your boots in a line

Don't want to hit the road and go coast to coast

It's what you want the most

To fantasize your ghost

I'm counting the days, acquiring the taste

I'm sick of looking at the stupid look on your face

Out in the desert, you buried your wine

And you looked at the roots and you made up your mind

You want to resurrect it from the dream that awoke you

And spoke from your shoulder and said, "You are no one"

You had a notion to keep killing time

But the clock is a wreck and you've already died

So leave it all behind and like the others before you

Just walk out the door and don't tell them goodbye

Ah, where is the fun in feeding the beast?

I'm running from the one with the symmetrical teeth

I'm counting the days, acquiring the taste

I'm sick of looking at the stupid look on your face

I'm counting the days

I'm losing my way

I'm counting the days

I'm sick of looking at the stupid look on your face