Striving to create

More than I consume

But how many songs are left?

A hidden partition of myself

Would still rather engineer

I don’t belong in subculture

You never drop out of punk

You just hide your past

Try to fit in at the watercooler

If I had a real career

I would wish I had toured

I’ve gone backwards

On the path I walked previously

These skills aren’t transferable

The occasional sinking feeling arises

That I have to be on stage more

To make this all work

My nerves arise from attention

I thrive on keeping secrets

Beating myself up regularly

Trying to find more pride

Masochism can run so far

It gets stained as ego

I’m on the last mile of a marathon

Where the finish line is the bottom