A year now, and nothing much has changed.
Holed up in a motel in EI Paso. This was meant to be my great escape,
I got lost along the way amongst free HBO and takeout.
Gonna write my Moby Dick. More like scratching lyrics on paper plates.
I spent the best years of my life waiting on the best years of my life...
so, what's there to write about?
What have I done. So, is this my destiny?
From Starlite Inn to eternity? The gods must be laughing down at me -
ha, ha,ha.

A traveling salesman at twenty years old.
Stranded in Ann Arbor with a flat tire.
I watched the Sun sadly set, much younger I may have wept;
any older I wouldn't have noticed.
But I was out there in the World.
Then the World, it passed me by,
I was telling everyone back home
I was taking it by storm - instead I watched it from the roadside.
What have I done. Are these the best tales I can spin?
A boy waiting to begin, A man of no memoirs.
What have I done?
And you're young and you're gonna be someone,
and you're old and you're ashamed of what you've become,
well, take a look around you, you're preachin' to the choir -
Ha, ha, ha!

What have I done?