Lyrics Rat's Ass/Customs - Buck 65

Rat's Ass/Customs

Standin' on the side of the road with a long shadow and suitcases
Going nowhere, and I don’t care, I’m a grown man
Hold my own hand, kickin' my own ass for cryin'
I’m dyin' on the inside, they don’t know who I am
Filthy, fraught, and haunted by a guilty conscience
Runnin' away, and all because of silly nonsense
Gone since — God knows when
And I ain’t comin' back knowin' that, no one gives a rat’s ass anyway
I just wanna find a place where I can sit in a rocking chair
No matter how far, even if it means walking there
Maybe I’ll get me a dog for some company
It’s better than tryin' to figure out somebody
Give me a good book, a radio, and a sewing machine
A place in the woods by the ocean and no inbetween
I gotta get rid of these dark circles and headaches
Maybe if I meditate, rather than medicate
I can no longer hesitate, I get so frantic
But what if my wishes are overly romantic
Though, the suns too low in the sky for second guesses I reken
And I’m used to taking chances
Breakin' a few branches, and gettin' lucky now and then
Findin' some trouble, was just a matter of how and when
And now I take notes, and make boats from Burch bark
But stress still shows in my face like a birthmark
As soon as I get where I’m going I’m going to wash my hands thoroughly
And start getting out of bed earlier
It’s curious the way I’ve tried vicariously
To fly so low to the ground and so carelessly
How embarassing, I can’t wait to call it quits
Knowing that more and more tiring is all it gets
I’ve applied various and unique strategies
Read a few Greek tragedies and fasted for two weeks
Been rollin' around
In the hole in the ground
No surprise both my eyes
Are swollen shut, I’m stranded with no supplies
I need a lift…
What have I done?