Tired of the Same Old every day.
When every fight becomes just like old news.
Don’t you ever just want to get away;
Tired of caring for what you might lose?
I may come back and say that I’m sorry.
But I also might not come back at all.
I may wish that my old heart is sorry.
But then I might not be walking so tall.
See, I’m a songster and this is my song.
But will I ever really run away?
An artist will paint his heart into song;
And I’ll write the words that I’ll never say.
No, I don’t want to hear about it – No!
Because I’m somewhere far away from here.
© Joey Who? and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.