An open road where I can breathe. Where the lowest low is comin to me. I can pull myself back up back down. Stuck together like a readymade. And nobody knows where we been. Cancelled rations are running thin. Watches tick out of tune. Falling apart like a readymade. And my bags are waiting In the next life. Rubbish piles fresh and plain. Empty boxes in a pawn shop brain. License plates stowaway. Standing in line like a readymade. And my bags are waiting in the next life. An open road where I can breathe. Where the lowest low is comin to me. I can pull myself back up back down. Stuck together like a readymade. And my bags are waiting in the next life.