Is it possible to leave without
letting the door
hit me in the butt because I wish I could stay?
I thought I was all done, but I’ve been here before.
Always ready to help them what can't hear,
because they’re learning how to sing the hard way.
So, is it wrong to slam the door
on my only chance to embark
on my world tour—
dropping back in the pocket like John Elway,
thinking Ive got a clear lane, but I’ve been here before
with my nose guard
digging up flowers.
I thought I was untouchable, but I paid
a steep-ass price for closing the door
on a whole heap of genuine poetic
manure.
In spite of all my friends could say,
I set out for the west because I’ve been here before—
dodging Aunt Sally, that civilizin’ whore.
I know I have to live life my own way,
so I'm leaving and I'm not letting the door
hit me in the butt, either. I’ve been here before.
