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Tin Armor
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Inside Days
Well I buy my days off in eighths
at a borderline criminal rate these days
And despite all the joys these good days
make me afraid that I'm losing pace
when outside the leaves are on fire
and burn with the hue of the sun
But it's all even to me, chemically
And of these diversions I've wrought
I bare no sadness at the thought
but it might cause me to pause
Signing off, breaking the law
A 'no' to sidewalk's call
well I might slip and fall
or get lost on the streets that I know
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