The Middle Lane


My thoughts are carbon copies, I'm afraid to forge my way
My mental journey can be described as a three lane highway
I've seen life's Heaven, as well as its Hell
The left lane is exciting, but potentially chaotic as well
The right lane is a sludge, the cars struggling through sand
No, the middle lane is my safety net, don't deviate from the plan
The left lane could make me happy, but that foreign feeling is scary
The right lane is merging anxiety, a burden no-one should have to carry
The driver's side window filled with fast heartbeats, and mental cocaine
The passenger side is usually only bad vision and heavy rain
I'm scared of being happy, scared of being sad
Scared of not being respected, scared of becoming my Dad
Yes, the middle lane is safest, cruise control with no worry
So why do I still get cut off by everyone in such a hurry?
Why is my copilot looking at me like that?
Why do I feel like my peripheral is under attack?
Sure, I could go around the elderly woman, prevent causing a scene
But to my left, and to my right is an uncomfortable me
No, my life is in the middle lane, it's where I feel safe
I may not win the marathon, but at least my thighs won't chafe!
I may not beat the traffic, but at least I'm not a wreck
I'm not going to play this game, what if someone stacked the deck?
I may not find true happiness, but at least my eyes stay dry
No-one around me is chasing their dreams, so why should I?




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