You're back on your feet, knock the dust from your jeans.
And your soul's on its knees rolling dice with your dreams.
You've got a watch in your pocket, keeping track of the days,
And you OD'ed on aspirin, but your headache remains.
It's gonna be alright in a matter of time,
Cause the dirt is gonna yield and the poem is gonna rhyme.
It's gonna be alright, it might take a little while,
Cause flying ain't nothing, just falling with style.
When you walk through the valley with the shadows to the west,
You can pull out your bedroll, lay down and get some rest.