I’m getting out.

I’m getting out.

I’m getting out.

without a doubt

I’m getting out,

out, out, out,

gonna find out,

what its all about.

I’m going around,

around, around

round and round,

to find what’s sound.

I’m spinning round,

right around,

my prospects abound,

to turn it all around.

I’ll find my clout

when I get about

as I feel stout

and will astound.

I need not stay about

in this wrecked, drought,

disastrous burnout,

town, I’ll, I’ll turn around.

I’m blowing this

abandoning this

giving the finger to this

town I called home.

I’m leaving it behind,

a hovel left to find,

shell left to grind,

to embrace the road.

I’ve found,

found,

found,

solid, solid ground.

And it’s in the same place from which I tried to escape.

Humbly yours,

J