Running in place, running in place
Physically and mentally Im stuck in a box made of wood
Running in place, running in place
Trapped against my will Im absent from the outside world
And I know those before me had hard times
And I know the situation could be worse
But every day I feel the fever with no chills, symptoms that stem from the box
Permanent daycare and the mountains theyre still there, cooking twice a day
Still have a job and healths ok
taking garbage outgreat
but a lack of personal space is killing me
Realize that folks have passed
Living history, cheap gas
but you know I really hate this
Soak it up this quarantine
writing songs and feeling mean
drinking beers to keep my sanity
Delivery of grocery
How many days and counting?
and you know I fuckin hate this
Calisthenics!
