This Life

I've been picking up the pieces of my life for many years
And every single one I've been shedding endless tears
And my body is sore from the lack of success
So, I've closed all the doors for a well-earned rest

My schooling was short and so was my height
My patience was strained so I'd keep out of sight
And I'd write out the bible one hundred odd times
Convalescing in the class room every lunch time

Now I sit in the subway without a penny to my name
Protecting my interests from the mad and insane
With everything that I need in the pit of my pocket
Padlock and chain, a key to lock it

I think of wasting my time in the fields of Bordeaux
Drinking the wine from the grapes that they grow
Or visit the church and beg for forgiveness
But knowing my luck they would be closed to business

Now I sit in the hallway of a no start motel
It reminds me of some sleezy whore house near hell
And everybody's going through some reckless stage
Helpless rats lost in a maze

Now I've sinned all my life and I hope I've been forgiven
For living my whole life in perpetual self destruction
But our days are numbered through my own persistence
Cutting on the rope that governs my existence