They Don’t Retire Slaves.
Take the time to take a look
They don’t retire slaves
Do you really want to work until you’re inside your grave?
Never leave the beaten path because you were afraid?
Doesn’t mean you found your lane just because the road was paved
But they say you sound insane,
if you become bold
Refrain
From following paint that has grown old
A stain
leading you to somewhere that you’ve known is pain
But we’d rather know the pain,
than to hope and pray
We’d rather know the way,
than to cope with age
Failing to cross the tolls we’re supposed to pay
ones that may have slowed us but help us cope today
Cause if I create a way, then that could make it fade
The security I get from all the debts I’ve paid
In debt before I even had to take a name
They hold me back but they also make me sane
I’m not coloring in ways that make me question aim
A pain each generation faces
I could have changed but
feared the fangs of having new directions laid
When I die inside the lines
At least you can say we paint the same.
