That parking lot sweeper
Was kicking up all of the dust
On a late night in Phoenix
As the sun had recently set back
The truck made it’s pass
To swallow the dust from the day
Away
From the parking lot
And start a new
Another day
The slowdown
Starts with a drop
Into the pool
Of chaos
But rather than
More of the same
Comes a different move
To drain the waters
Of course action
In reaction
A slower movement
Emerges
From the depths of
The churning
Water
Pay me a song
So I can sing along
So that musicians
Like me
Can eat our dinner
Thankfully
To have hope
Finally
Be
Free
Stream a song
For one penny
All night long
But if it keeps you up
Turn it down
The musicians of the world
Need to make a dollar
Or pound
Transparency
Thankfully
For the musician in
Me
It started with a
Bit of wind
Picking up from the south
When the burst came
The hope of the vessel
Was let out
So that summer
I planned
To never sail
Again
There have to be limits
Limits for my own
Expectations
During this time
Of running fast
And running blind
So I hope to find
These limits
In due time
Be a part
Not apart
Of the movement
To understand
And address
All the confusion
To continue
Growth
Be a part
Of wherever this all
Goes
Real burnout
Is a real thing
That we face
From the repetitive motions
We make
To connect
While we are
Far away
My own experience
Was yet to make it
As far as Coney
In New York City
So until the next time
Then maybe I can see the sign
Of Coney Island
Calls for pause
As we creep out of the
Cracks that we have
Buried and built for ourselves
I step out only to see
A burning sun that
Set’s me back in my tracks
So lift up the curtains
And retreat
Again
Back to where
It all began
A Cup of Songwriting 