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I think the only way to deal with this is to quote some favorite John Prine lyrics.
"A heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there,
wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow."
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there,
wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow."
"Flo talked slow like real wet paint, said a middleman& #39;s there when the other ones ain& #39;t."
"You come home late and you come home early.
You come on big when you& #39;re feeling small.
You come home straight and you come home curly.
Sometimes you don& #39;t come home at all."
You come on big when you& #39;re feeling small.
You come home straight and you come home curly.
Sometimes you don& #39;t come home at all."
"She& #39;s a shut-in without a home."
"It got so hot, last night, I swear,
you couldn& #39;t hardly breathe.
Heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol.
I sat on the porch without my shoes
and I watched the cars roll by.
As the headlights raced
to the corner of the kitchen wall."
you couldn& #39;t hardly breathe.
Heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol.
I sat on the porch without my shoes
and I watched the cars roll by.
As the headlights raced
to the corner of the kitchen wall."
Thank you Mr. Prine.
