The Station

This day's felt still since noon
So I'll lie low 'till the light of the moon
Now I'm equal parts excited and in mourn
But that divide was already born
In one hand a book of prose
In the other a stiff drink goes
I bet Nietzsche never let his hair down like I do
But ideas, well, he had one or two
Still I'm told to wait in line once more
But my heart just wants to dance straight through the door
If the best laid plains go awry
Then my worst ones shouldn't even try
That doesn't stop them coming to the fore
Should I live in the now a little more?
Twenty years have flashed before my eyes
To let twenty more flash by would be unwise
Next year hails so much
But it's way out of touch
And the hands on this clock are turning so slow
My map looks incomplete
But this drink's tasting sweet
I might talk myself up 'till my path begins to show
I'm counting all the stars I see tonight
'Cause the station will come soon enough all right