You can’t take the rage
You can’t join the rave
It’s like three jokers trying to make the grade
You can’t work it out
You can’t run around
It’s like the end of a record just before the last sound
You can’t look at me
You can’t go to the east
You can’t reach for the sky
You can’t keep getting high
You can’t find no relief
You can’t be talked down
You can’t come around
You can’t stand to dance
You can’t come down from the trance
You can’t get to the riverside
You can’t fake the fall
You can’t lead a call
It’s like a lost memory tied up in a medicine ball
You can’t look at me
You can’t head to the sea
You can’t go for that pie
You can’t keep getting by
You can’t find no relief
©4/18/16 Bruce Clifford
