Cooke (Modern Baseball)

I'm circling the drain With all my problems in hand Well I gotta' pretty good hand I'd say But these new caskets crack the same The first few stones are the worst They fall in unnoticed And scare you for more than they're worth And all at once you will not hear your own words Closet weather at best and you're a victim You say we're all in the basket But it's so fun To remind us over and over again Time's a wasting so now I must be leaving I'm crawling outside In the same way that I creeped in And the rain falls down and it's heavy on my eye lids Pulled to the ground down the fucking drain Maybe it's just my luck But I got a spotless record Maybe it's harder to stay And we got it all wrong from the start Maybe it's all in the cards Or just an excuse for playing Maybe it's all in our hearts Maybe I don't know what I'm saying I'm circling the drain But I'm picking these bones up Cause man, they don't live there today And I don't want to hear the fibers crack Cause God knows I'd rather die than be dying It's not a clich', no sir it is a logical preference Because the way things were this year Makes me think how good it all could be And how well it could end Maybe it's just my luck But I got a spotless record Maybe it's harder to stay And we got it all wrong from the start Maybe it's all in the cards Or just an excuse for playing Maybe it's all in our hearts Maybe I don't know what I'm saying