Rodeo - QTY

Every rodeo comes to an end

It’s the inevitable, there are bandages

On every road, a gas station

It’s the distance between them, that’s miles per gallon

Well how far from where I’ve been?

And how long until it’s comfortable?

A rough patch isn’t even that

I’m with my person, my very own person

My dark thoughts turn to bar talk

I’m with my person, my very own person

Pocket change on the tarmac

An imprint of me walking the length of my footsteps

I grew up, I was liked less

I had a drink I had another I got over it

Well how far from where I’ve been?

And how long until it’s comfortable?