The Ride

It’s a long push to Doomsday
And a short ride back
Left shoulder is empty and broken
Right carries a beaten knapsack

My front wheel is half deflated
My spokes are about to snap
The frame is still the same
And I’m past counting laps

A dirt strip between sidewalks
Keeps me from being clean
Red hands and white men
Tell us when it’s green

I’m too busy for you
Too humble for bills
Too stubborn for love
Too driven for pills

It’s an easy ride to the valley
On a downhill slope
But then you still have peaks to climb
With lower gears and rope

My ankle swelled and strengthened
My knee was torn and glued
Left is taking shots at right
While middle’s not in the mood

I’m too busy for love
Too humble for a mattress
Too stubborn for you
Too driven for madness