I Write Whatever I Want To Write

"Exhausted Dump Truck of Thoughts"

I go home
I feel like a ghost
just floating alone.

I'm stuck in my head
It's to troubled to rest
I struggle to find
what happens next.

My bodies in need
of getting some sleep
or maybe my soul
had just been released.
I think about things,
to many they breed,
I think about thing
that no one should think,

Hoping to find
some drive inside
or just steer myself clear
I can't decide.

What should i do?
Try on a new pair of shoes?
or just pick up the banjo
and start singing the blues.

Social distortion they
that guys insane,
but singing comes out
in the middle of rage.
Start clearing my mind
with a Dump Truck beside,
to sort out the bad one
so you won't run to hide.