Each day this pebble grows smaller, closing in around me, and thickening the air.
The stars here are like key holes out through eternity I stare.
And some days I look out theses eyes like I’m looking through prison bars.
Walking the pebble like I’m walking prison yards.
The pebble pushes up the harder I push down.
So I’ve learned to tread tenderly over this rugged ground.
It’s a rut that I walk ‘til my feet are sore.
A place to put my foot where my foot has been before.
Until the day the pebble mixes with the clay no more night and no more day.