march on.

you know that thing where you feel like a fool?
you try to avoid it, of course.
but the mortification
it takes you to school,
it says, 'c'mon cowboy - beat that dead horse'.

and the past, why so stubbornly passive?
it refuses to get up and leave
each misstep played back
becomes massively massive
and you wince, and you stew,
and you grieve.

time heals all things, and it will, right?
right, right, it'll right all the wrongs
but right now it's
an excuse to sit tight
and listen exclusively to
miserable songs.