Ol' Sisyphus and that rock. It's finally starting to make sense to me. Starting over is life. I guess we struggle for comfort and stability. It always seems that security is just around that next corner. Poor Otis sang about needing it. Suddenly he was rich, famous. The folks adored him all over the world. Then that stupid plane went down in that big old lake and the big man was gone. He had his first number one record right after he died.
My quest for something meaningful consumes me. It's always just over that hill. I always destroy it. I'm not even sure what I'm chasing. There's never been a hellhound on my trail. I always hear the siren calling. Nobody ever said I was smart. Well, my mom did but she thought I sang pretty, too.