It's been a hell of a year, but I'm mentally prepared 
To do a dance around the next couple medical scares. 
I'm Fred Astaire with the metal wearing quickly off my 
tap shoes. 
So I step quietly, the way that cat's move. 
But I'm bear-like. My head trapped in dear lights. 
You can call me John, I'm writing letters to the dark 
side of the moon tonight. 
My lovely Jane, you went away but the pain stayed. 
So I'm sending you a package to the address where you 
traded names. 
I made no claims on the identity theft. 
I'm more concerned about the home with no amenities 
left. 
And it's already a mess. The dust piles like your junk 
mail. 
So I eat away depression and crush the scale. 
You find yourself on the opposite side of the spectrum. 
Emaciated on a strict diet of bed crumbs. 
Me? I choose to wallow and I'll just swim in my fat. 
You...refuse to swallow so I see ribs from the back. 
This isn't an attack, it's an admission of guilt. 
I'm living in the past, kissing your ass, sipping your 
milk. 
But it's all bone and curdle. I saw stones in a circle. 
Stood in the middle. Told myself riddles in a robe 
that's purple. 
The murder weapon was an icicle. 
Is that the reason why I'm standing in this puddle with 
my eyes so full? 
I fight feelings like a war on drugs. 
I'm a chemist with a test tube addiction born through 
coffee mugs. 
Our baby now is all growed up. 
Your car is still dead in my driveway while I wait for 
the tow truck. 
And you know what? I know I drove you away, 
I still don't think it was wrong so I don't know what 
to say. 
It's been a tough year. You say that life ain't fair, 
You say that life ain't worth it. But it is. You gotta 
work it. 
Nobody's life is perfect. 

Yeah, you've been dealt a bad hand. Placed against a 
stacked deck. 
Been through all the cat scans and bad checks. 
But I slashed your debt. Not your wrists. 
And I couldn't help with anything else that became 
cancerous. 
Halfway people with a full baby to bury, 
Took a flame to the papier-mache sanctuary. 
When the smoke clears...try not to stare into the 
light. 
But, also, don't stay in the dark as if that's what 
life is like. 
It's just a series of unfortunate events, 
But the messages we get are more important than death. 
What's the rush? 
I've got a shortness of breath. 
What's the rush? 
Running from you...running from me. 
It's the rush. The crush. The lust. The love-trust. 
So what's the trouble? The busted bubble? The unjust? 
That's just the way the cookie crumbles. It does suck, 
But suck it up. We're all looking, but nothing's 
enough. 
We used each other as a crutch. The clutch. The shift 
switches. 
You couldn't just adjust. You combusted and ripped 
pictures. 
This is why I'm not considered a saint? 
Well, guess what?......I ain't. 

It's been a hell of a year. 
You said that I ain't there, I ain't care, and life 
ain't fair. 
It's been a hell of a trip. 
You say my mind's unfit, I've been flip, and I ain't 
shit. 
It's been a hell of a life. 
You say that I ain't like the way I write and that 
ain't right. 
It's been a hell of an attempt. 
You say that I ain't meant for promises unkept. 
Well, guess what, darlin... 
I'm a keep keep callin 
Guess what, darlin... 
I'm a keep keep callin.