In all accounts on time.
Leaving an hour early,
Regarding every traffic sign.
He's learned to walk on broken glass,
From the times he cut his feet,
Scratched his nails with his skin,
And learned the art of retreat.
Taking in the world all around,
As he drives behind a truck.
Feeling safe and insecure,
Knowing he disposed his own luck.
With the future straight ahead,
And the past increasingly behind,
He's taken steps to ensure.
To everybody he remains kind.
Although the world builds itself up,
Heavier and more intense.
He submits to it's control,
And builds a solid fence.
A cold heart is a strong mind,
And soon all will see.
That in this truth you will find,
A simple story of me.
