Pothole

I feel like a relic, make me angelic. Then I can sleep through it all

When I'm feeling tragic, take a hit of your magic. Or maybe I need you to call

And if I make it through winter, I'll be in the backseat, watching the rain hit the wings of the sparrows

And I'll be in the background, feeling the same but not so narrow

When I was all of my problems, thought I'd die if I solved them. Like a side street pothole, thinking where did the time go

If I could feel better by pushing a lever

Or copy and pasting and I'm fine. Foolish but clever, a useless endeavor, and everyone's wasting their time

And when I make it through winter, I'll be in the backseat, watching the rain hit the wings of the sparrows