I can't tell what's wrong or right.
Don't know what's fair anymore.
I just want to pick a fight,
yell, and slam the door.
I wipe my hands at dry eyes.
Maybe it's time to set sail,
jump over the guard rails.
I start the engine to drive hundreds of miles.
It'll be a while,
but I'll find my voice again, get back on my feet.
Then I'll walk
without looking behind me
and I'll talk
without rhyming.