just as it comes Video (MV)

A rut's not a hole, it's a hill,
Like how memories don't go when they're folding the will,
Growing old means learning that food ain't stolen for the thrill,
What they ain't sold always on the bill,
It's the same old chorus by the verse,
And always seem to hurt when their teeth so white and smiling so wide and they're saying so much but meaning so little,
And the people so fickle, and their so feet are so brittle,
And the ice so thin,
Why so glib, you're a prick in every sense of the word,
I make sentences heard,
By making sense of the hurt,
Went to work, biked home and cried,
I really fooled myself thinking life was bonafide,
Broke the spine of my camel with some straw this week,
Only finding the panel in the floor that creaks,
She told me fine in a manner that was sort of peak,
It's all me,
I fall asleep, to fight the battle where it ought to be,
Get put in the mould, then you melt,
I like how everyone knows but don't know what prevents it,
Growing old means learning that thoughtful ain't always pensive.
A rut's not a hill, it's a hill.