Charlie Newman

"I'm running out"

I'm running out of space and it's so bad I find myself face-to-face
with myself more often than not these days and I don't necessarily like
what I'm seeing and I've had it up to here (holding my hand just under
my nose parallel to the floor) and I'm maybe an eyelash from going
postal and, trust me, you don't want to hang around for that so I'll
see if I can make this quick:
I'm running out of space and
I'm running out of time and the damn ticking inside my head inside my
head inside inside inside my head the damn ticking inside my head is
deafening and I can't get anywhere because there's no "where' to go and
no "when" to leave and no one told me that I had to check in or clock
out and I can't look back because time's a-wastin' time's a-wastin'
time time time's a-wastin and the time to look back is past and I'm not
at all sure the safety is engaged because
I'm running out of space and
I'm running out of time and
I'm running out of chances and I think I need a good kick in the ass to
get me to ditch the insanity and get down to earning the big bucks the
big bliss the big bonanza that's waitin' for me somewhere over the
rainbow and, man, I think I got my message from the real Yahweh the one
Yahweh the only Yahweh so long ago it's dyin' of old age Alzheimer's as
the lights go out and the brain drains and here I sit and there you are
and when will I see it clean and clear from far and near for all to
hear and all to know and the thing that really bugs me in all this is
the simple fact that
I'm running out of space and
I'm running out of time and
I'm running out of chances and
I'm running out of excuses and what'll I do without them without
excuses without regrets without apologies because without excuses
without regrets without apologies there's no pardon there's no
absolution there's no forgiveness there's no amnesty there's no quiet
way home and life on the road is no life at all it's travel it's all
hotel no-tell motel rooms with pictures screwed to walls and phone
cords and shower curtains that are just too short to reach and last
night's mayhem hidden in the mattress and I want to go home no matter
who says I can't and
I'm running out of space and
I'm running out of time and
I'm running out of chances and
I'm running out of excuses and
I'm running out of patience -- wanna make something of it or would you
rather just let me get on with this little piece of work and lean your
gossip lips up to the closest eager ear and say "the thing is this" and
"the thing is that" and "the thing is the other" and "the thing is the
thing" and "the thing is not the thing" and the thing is all things"
and "the thing is no thing" and the play's the thing and the every
thing is beautiful in the eye of the beholder and
I'm running out of space and
I'm running out of time and
I'm running out of chances and
I'm running out of excuses and I'm running out of patience andI'm running out of energy
I'm running out of energy
and I'm running out of reasons to go on reasons to go on
and when there's no reason to go on there's no going on and when
there's no going on there's going off and so I'm going off I'm going
off drugs and I'm going off booze and I'm going off the air and I'm
going off the deep end and I'm going...going...gone and
I'm not running out of space and
I'm not running out of time and
I'm not running out of chances and
I'm not running out of excuses and
I'm not running out of patience and
I'm not running out of energy
'cause, Baby, you can't run out of what you've never had to begin with

©© 2001 Charlie Newman

 

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