I'm a Mess
Once in a while, I can feel the whole world spinning.
My hair twist in the wind. I can't find the brake.
The clock on the dashboard is coiled like a snake.
There's years flying by me and a wide open cliff,
On wheels made of lightning, just barely a blip
If there's room at the top for a loser, look out.
The radio's blasting a mean twist and shout.
I'm a mess.
At times like these a man should take a blind-fold and smoke.
Take a walk
Take a drive
Take a kneel
Take a dive
Take a month
Take a year
Take a hike
Disappear
Take it on faith - whatever you get.
You just close your eyes, it won't hurt a bit.
The firing squad's gathered, the capitan grins.
All the change in my pocket won't pay for my sins.
I'm a mess.
When I woke up, they'd strapped me in an MRI.
Black dye in my veins, head Velcroed down
Foam happy slippers and a blue paper grown
The banging went on for an hour or more.
Then they slipped me out like a boat onto shore.
The technician with coffee was sporting a smile
That said - God gave me wisdom, but the devil's got style
I'm a mess.
Nothing less
I confess
I'm a mess
Now I live in NY, the Babylon of Neon Fire
The rats on the third rail is smoking like char
The thunder storm hits and I flag down a car
On the screen in Times Square I look like a wreck
And we lunge out of traffic tricking down through the spec
The hooded girl turns and says 'look at who's alive'
I say - Boy, you can't scare me, just shut up and drive!
I'm a mess
Oh God yes,
I confess
I'm a mess
I'm a mess.
My hair twist in the wind. I can't find the brake.
The clock on the dashboard is coiled like a snake.
There's years flying by me and a wide open cliff,
On wheels made of lightning, just barely a blip
If there's room at the top for a loser, look out.
The radio's blasting a mean twist and shout.
I'm a mess.
At times like these a man should take a blind-fold and smoke.
Take a walk
Take a drive
Take a kneel
Take a dive
Take a month
Take a year
Take a hike
Disappear
Take it on faith - whatever you get.
You just close your eyes, it won't hurt a bit.
The firing squad's gathered, the capitan grins.
All the change in my pocket won't pay for my sins.
I'm a mess.
When I woke up, they'd strapped me in an MRI.
Black dye in my veins, head Velcroed down
Foam happy slippers and a blue paper grown
The banging went on for an hour or more.
Then they slipped me out like a boat onto shore.
The technician with coffee was sporting a smile
That said - God gave me wisdom, but the devil's got style
I'm a mess.
Nothing less
I confess
I'm a mess
Now I live in NY, the Babylon of Neon Fire
The rats on the third rail is smoking like char
The thunder storm hits and I flag down a car
On the screen in Times Square I look like a wreck
And we lunge out of traffic tricking down through the spec
The hooded girl turns and says 'look at who's alive'
I say - Boy, you can't scare me, just shut up and drive!
I'm a mess
Oh God yes,
I confess
I'm a mess
I'm a mess.
Credits
Writer(s): Rodney Crowell, Mary Karr
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.