but i know there was a fight

the non-existant sucker punch from the untouchable 'they'

i feel absolutely hollowed out
("...asking

where did all the passion go!")

shucked like corn
is it that moon again, already?--

i can tell the time by the new england fields
but i've been too long without a watch:
timeless in a rushing age--

it never works out

i'm always late, i'm uselessly premature.
standing right here among wheat and hay
singular and reaping (weeping) all alone.

a body pushing it's way through on borrowed moments
waiting expectantly for the next right hook

and never taking it well on the chin.

("...tryin' to find a balance, i'm just trying to find a balance...")