22 Oct 2001
Called in sick to work today
I couldn't have gotten a damn thing done anyhow
I Made myself some coffee and I listened to the rain rattle the leaves
I told myself there's nothing wrong and stared right through the paper for a long, long time
Stuck inside your dreams so long, it wears you down and grows you cold
and that's a fact
Cold light comes to clear the fog away from time to time but it'll be back soon
I used to think that justice had to rule for happy lives, but now I'm not so sure at all

Come home
Why don't you come home I cannot remember why you left
And I'd rather be happy than right this time

Called my dad to check in and to maybe find some common sense...more or less
He says common sense is such a scam, and I'm like 'Dad, what do you mean?'
He says you're either wrong or right and life will go on either way, whatever you chose

But I know:
That anger's all right
Bitterness, no
Cold, uncontrollable, sad, and unable to let go.
And it should be as easy as telling a scab from a scar
Well I don't know

Called in sick to work today
I couldn't have gotten a damn thing done