Coffee Cup

I think I'm seeing things in my coffee cup,
and I don't know if all these dreams will ever be enough
to keep me truckin' along this dusty, potholed road.
I suppose I should be going now, my coffee's getting cold.
Just like my soul.

Sunrise, sunset, doesn't matter, it's always the same.
The sun is moving all the time, but we're the ones changing.
Ranges of emotion cluttering my mind,
bouncing through my body, destroying my insides.
But please don't take my soul;
it's the thing I need most.

Times's a-wasting, my breath's becoming short.
Waiting for an answer, but it's time I can't afford.
Begging and bartering has become my last resort.
It's up to me to acknowledge or to ignore:
Time.

What's the point of wondering when nothing's getting done?
And what's the use of marching to the beat of your own drum
when you're out of tune and have no rhythm and you're all torn up?
Well, Father, if it is your will then please just take this cup.
Take this cup.

So I put on my helmet and I strap on my boots.
The rest of it is uphill and I know that I may lose.
But there's no chance of gaining if I never even try.
And I would like to know myself before I have to die.
As I sigh my last sigh.

Times's a-wasting, my breath's becoming short.
Waiting for an answer, but it's time I can't afford.
Begging and bartering has become my last resort.
It's up to me to acknowledge or to ignore:
Time.

Time to listen, time to learn.
Time to rise up from these ashes of my burned
and broken life that I led
to save my soul no longer dead.
My soul no longer dead.