Sold Short

This morning I awoke
hard pressed to catch my breath.
I thought I'd dreamt the calendar
shed the better of its depth.
But oh, my mind she hadn't lied,
no a whole damn year's gone by.
So I'm weathered in a wild fit
faulted as the clock conspired.

Don't ask how I could stand
to sit on my own two hands.
The seasons beat about my face
while still buried in the sand.
And 'though the time that has elapsed
has left my lungs collapsed
at least I've got these limbs to write
of unleasant plight, alright.
Well-Oh-Well-Oh-Well
I sold myself so short again.
Well, I've been working too hard
just to fall back on my last resort again.
Ah man, I'm through
doing everything I know I ain't supposed to do.
Well-Oh-Well-Oh-Well
I sold myself so short.

While I'm wide-eyed, my thoughts collide;
I pry myself out of bed.
Just a bag of weary bones on stilts
doing battle with my head.
And, with the sermon I just wrote,
I'm preaching it to coax
my head back from a humdrum hell
and the stale that it evokes.
Well-Oh-Well-Oh-Well
I sold myself so short again.
Well, I've been working too hard
just to fall back on my last resort again.
Ah man, I'm through
doing everything I know I ain't supposed to do.
Well-Oh-Well-Oh-Well
I sold myself so short.