And the pressure in my stomach,
Mirror the time and stress oppressing me.
All I can count on is luck,
And determination and a belief,
In the ultimate working out of the world,
Like it does for so many others,
From Iraq to Sri Lanka's jungles.
And each stop of this ride reminds me how fast,
The years have gone by, never mind the days.
Time keeps on ticking like the snow and the wipers,
While I sit here dissecting the last phase.
And it's alright,
It's always worked out in the end for me,
Though I've always wanted a million bucks,
And that does not seem forthcoming.
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