Packed Powder

I started working at the second hand, I thought it would make me more colorful. I saw the world as a stitch and patch. I saw the sky as torn grey wool.

I started working as a dime store clerk, I thought it would make me the kind to put you first. My only dreams were in fluorescent light, My only goal was to forget what I was worth.

I want to see how it takes me. I want to see how the powder burns. Don't want to keep what I can't have more of. Don't want to wait and miss my turn.

I started working as a tour guide, I thought it would make me believe my own words. Every patient thought just passed me by, Every truth I said sounded just absurd.

I started working at a small town church, I thought it would make me a better man. They said the sins I had would fly away, As if the birds were in the palms of my own hands.

I want to see how it takes me, I want to see how the powder burns. Don't want to keep what I can't have more of, Don't want to wait and miss my turn.