I found the road map in my jacket pocket yesterday
A map to the wrong address I was expected to get to
For a Sunday morning breakfast
I guess I’m still lost even though I eventually got there
Not quite able to make out where I have been or going
And what I’m supposed to do when I get there
Rhyme and reason embraced in some fantasy
They can’t make work no matter how hard they try,
The map always leading me to the wrong place
And the wrong situation, and regardless of how much
I try, I always arrived late and screw things up
When I finally get there
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