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
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB