It's the worry you need to get in front of
Run, walk, or crawl but keep moving
The ******* is a persistent ache
But it is you who create it and make it several hundred repeating thoughts at all hours of the night or day when the sun is high and you get lost in the bright bright bright lights of tomorrow
You cultivate the stampede of words that echo childishly throughout your mind as they fiddle with you
And if you let the big bulging tidal wave of anxiety and fear of tomorrow be one bigger than the tiny sentence you yourself created it actually is
Well, it's time to get up and check your clock and hands and apartment
You created this, this thing called "worry"
And in the end, you'll get rid of it
It's figuring how to, how to be ahead of this thing called "worry"
Reading, walking, working, sweating, driving, thinking about somebody you've ******, thinking of what you'll be able to get done tomorrow or right now or eventually, and it'll happen
Think of things bigger than the thoughts of worry of life of tomorrow
Think of what you're doing at the moment
Think of the World Cup or the driving test you took when you were a child
Think of the tv shows you laugh at
Think of the faces on the bus
Think of science think of painting
Think of your height or deli sandwiches
Think of the Tuesday night traffic you hear outside of your apartment window and think, where are they going tonight? Will my thoughts go with them or will I leave them here

From the chaos comes life
And the world is the stage
You will feel heavy, can not move
You struggle to breathe
It's a cage you try to claw out of
Each warm night that passes,
More black the sky becomes
There is a knife in your belly
Your tongue can taste nothing
It rips you limb from limb
And all you can do is watch,
Till the feast is complete
No one man or woman ever gets
Their path straight to the falls
Most give up, many feel nothing
Then there are those that with
Every bit of life which remains
Get up once again and try
They are beasts, they are fantasy
They are wizards, they are steel
They have been aided by the world,
"And that is not fair..." They say
But far from the truth that is
They are just most hungry
They lose themselves in the night
Only to be born again in the wild
For another story to write
For another face to fight
Here is to you, the few who dare
The ordinary sailor with light
In their eyes, and a soul of fire.

To be around those who have suffered
and made it out alive and beautiful
and with a soul which sings, to see someone more beautiful than art, to see when someone is connected to the world as they are with their own body and are able to water it with life and watch it slowly grow, to see reality of life through their eyes and from their voice, and to get pulled into their secret little room, that they can always go hide away in; The place where their madness is able to roam freely and explore and learn and exist without interference.

That is true beauty, that is being alive, that is everything most meaningful

Mr. Big Time Blues took at seat
As always, to the left of the bar
Sat real tall, never looked around
Nodded his head, double bourbon neat
Dusty old fella, but sharp and calm
Everyone made their assumptions;
Killer hit man, wall street tycoon,
Ex-marine, business owner of steel,
depending on the viewers,
it was always some different assumption
He would sit there round after round
Sitting taller after drink after drink
Getting up here and there
Dime in the jukebox in the corner
Went back to his seat, and nodded
He would sit and soak in the music
He would take in all the eyes
And I knew he would go back home
and continue his novel,
Mr. Big time Blues was a writer
With a six gun in his trousers
and a mind full of the blues and whiskey

You wake up with pain in the morning
Wash your face, your eyes begin to focus
It's about 6:45 a.m. and you work at 7:30 a.m.
Jump in the hot shower and let it soothe your back
Then the routine; One pill for the stomach,
Another for the back pain.
Which ***** up your stomach more
Then I welcome the headache
Those come with the dehydration,
Of the war in my body by the "medicine"
And the stress.. the stress is the extra kick
To the back around noon and you drink water
Like a fish and the bathroom at work is so clean
But your mind is still jacked
Because this "medicine" don't work, but
Somebody still got paid, thieves

Day in and day out you tunnel through the caves
And the rocks fall on you
And the people stare at you and wait
And the ex-wife sits with her knife
And the afternoon traffic laughs too

But you see yourself,
Submerged in a body of clear blue water
And your legs have become stronger
And you jump, kick up with force
Leaping out of the water and you swing!
Beating anything that's in your path
And it's usually life's big ******* face
K.O. punch to the jaw
The dust settles.

You check your legs and arms and neck
And hands and ears and heart rate
And you picture the next
30 years to tunnel through.

Another cold night in Eagle Rock, CA
New York flipped the switch
And the banks shined their shoes
The rent is paid and I've got.. the blues!
A buddy and a woman at my door
Clear sky and the cold ain't got me yet
Life make you shake, you start dancing
They take your heart, give 'em your soul
When the doctor says, "Take it easy."
Suit up pal, we are going for a ride
We ain't dead yet but we ain't rich
So take all you can take and go baby
Change what you can and keep swinging

Another cold night in Eagle Rock, CA
New York flipped the switch
And the banks shined their shoes
The rent is paid and I've got the blues
A buddy and a woman at my door
Cleark sky and the cold, ain't got me yet

There is a wild, mad bull
scars scattered over his body
calm and fearlessness in his eyes

a young painter captivated,
is sitting on broken stairs painting it
an older woman gently watches
the young boy, as he paints
this bull in the distance, with desire
the desire to live once again

and from his house, the man
who raises the herd from which
the bull was raised in
looks over at the woman,
observing with lust
perversely drawing out mentally
her laying naked on his bed sheets
spreading herself for him, only him

there is a haunting violin stroking away
the spinning ceiling fan is about to break
anxiety is eating away at my finger tips
and we all just want to know,

How's it going to end?