Pacer Little Avalons
I’m running, I’m running my self ragged
Everybody wants that pound of flesh
There’s not much left.
I’m running, I’m running my self raw
The unsubtle sense of grinding,
These facts that we try and hide in.
And in the end what do we get,
Except for years of regret?
We waste our lives on things
That we all end up hating
Do we get what we ask for?
Do we get excuses?
‘till your dead inside
Nothing behind the eyes
We work on and on
For our little Avalons
I’m running, I’m running out of excuses
All the lies we tell ourselves
You know it’s useless
I’m running, I’m running out of time
A long drop from a short rope,
It’s a circle, hope-despair-hope
We take for granted our health
We put our hopes up on the shelf
We waste our lives on things
That we’ll end up hating
Do we get what we ask for?
Do we get excuses?
‘till your dead inside
Nothing behind the eyes
We work on and on
For our little Avalons
Little avalon, where has it gone?
I enjoy the sweat.
I enjoy the toil.
But only if working towards my goals
I’ll enjoy the sweat.
I’ll enjoy the toil.
But where are my goals?
We waste our lives on things
That we’ll end up hating
Do we get what we ask for?
Do we get excuses?
‘till your dead inside
Nothing behind the eyes
We work on and on
For our little Avalons
