The sky’s more black than bluenThere’s a rock inside a shoenFloating in a murky poolnAnd it’s starting to soak throughnnUsed to sail the shipsnNow I organize the chips at the storenDon’t mean to be a borenBut who needs much more?nnWhen I feel like driftwoodnNot sure if that’s goodnFeel like something’s calling me to gonNot sure if I should feel like driftwoodnNot sure if I shouldnNot sure if I shouldnDriftwoodnnChurch with a broken bellnTurtle who’s lost its shellnNick Rhodes without his gelnI think I’m a little lost toonnOnly time will tell nIf there’s a heaven or an H-E-L-LnTime is weird, it has a beardnAnd I don’t know if I even want to knownnWhen I feel like driftwoodnNot sure if that’s goodnFeel like something’s calling me to gonI’m not sure if I should feel like driftwoodnNot sure if I shouldnNot sure if I shouldnNot sure if I shouldnDriftwoodnDriftwoodnDrift nDriftwoodnn