Brown Bag from Florida
I'm getting so tired of waking up mornings
with nothing in my pockets but dust
And I'm worn out from work that pays next to nothing
just slaving away 'cause I must
I'm just biting my tongue, biding my time
waiting to leave this behind
And while people are moving, I'm standing still
I pretend that it's really for real
but I know that I'm spinning, I'm out of control
it's got so that I scarcely feel
A dancing enigma, marching in time
waiting to leave this behind
A dancing enigma waiting in time
an ear with it's head to the ground
could listen for footprints could signal for a truce
could strangle on the sound
It isn't a life of leisure waiting to leave this behind
I said it isn't a life of leisure
waiting to leave this behind, and be gone
waiting to leave this behind and be gone.
Not long after I moved to Texas after a pretty hard time outside of Tampa I discovered
among my papers these words written on a brown paper bag. This is the first song
that I matched the chords to just conversationally saying the words. By now, I've left the
loneliness that I then felt so far behind. It seems like from another life.
But I liked the line about the dancing enigma so on the last day of the session I
pulled this out and played it.