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Mizzy C
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I keep recycling stories from my youth That I've told before Conversations with myself Have become such a bore Struggling to find the rhythm In these blues of mine I've been living out of focus Bearing of life and lie If I try to change direction I might not find what I'm looking for But this bitter disposition Well now must surely run its course Ooh Now I've been given the gift of persistence But it's become a curse Unraveling backward In the distance I heard a dirge I can see a man On his face there's no trace of time There's a strange and mad idea I must find If I try to change direction



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