Deathbed

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 there won't be any 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 lookin' For an edge I hope I find In a race that's never ending Even though I keep on pretending that it does Now I'm pickin' up the pieces To the puzzle that I've sawn So that I can then collect them And put them back inside the box And in tomorrow's boredom I can spread 'em on the floor and start again (oh) 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