my pockets may not be full but i am great within
some are born to lose, but i was made to win
i maintain my shine in times when faith is dim
i’m not trying to save face
i’m just trying to stay slim.

i’m tired of playing second string on second fiddles
the promise of “death do we part” was wasted on widows
keep open your windows of opportunity
keep your calendars clear
this is my day
this is my week
this is my month
this is my year
and waiting around for demand to meet supply has gotten damn demanding
you can call me last kid picked
or you can call me last man standing
but i’m
still
here.
and before i can save one person
i must become my personal savior
i must know that my soul glows
without the use of activator
so bring on the uphill climbs
these boots were made for hiking
time to shed my old self-loathing
to something more to my liking
so i’m reciting:

my pockets may not be full but i am great within
some are born to lose, but i was made to win
i maintain my shine in times when faith is dim
i’m not trying to save face
i’m just trying to stay slim.

i never was a funky drummer
i never had that blue eyes croon
all i’ve got’s a bunch of words written in my room
but i’ve said too much too soon
and now you won’t wanna date me
because we’ve replaced all that we’ve done
with “what have you done for me lately”
and that’s great
and that’s fine
that’s someone’s measure of success
but of all the ways to size you up
a yardstick’s not the best
and i just call ‘em like i see ‘em
and maybe you won’t hear me either
but a friend of mine told me i sparkle inside
and i believe her...

and my mom still calls me rob
just like my grandpa called me butchie
and my homies call me slim
my ex girlfriends call me pushy
or they don’t call at all.
(and that’s okay too sometimes.)
i’ve been the dialee and the dialer
the shoulder and the crier
i’ve seen scorched earth and tidal waves
yeah, i’ve seen rain and fire
it’s all elementary from where i’m sitting.
and if you think i’m kidding
try me
please
this is the little light that could
the flash in the flood
the mud in yer eye
the eye in yr witness
the witness to yr revival
the revival in yr barn
the barn to yr dance
the dance to yr music to my ears.
this is the example that has to pacify
the new galactic battlecry
ratpack 3:16 sez i just whooped yr ass
and i can finish the chant at last:

my pockets may not be full but i am great within
some are born to lose, but i was made to win
i maintain my shine in times when faith is dim
i’m not trying to save face
i’m just learning to stay slim.