Packed Powder

I started working at the second hand,

I thought it would make me more colorful.

I saw the world as a stitch and patch.

I saw the sky as torn grey wool.

I started working as a dime store clerk,

I thought it would make me the kind to put you first.

My only dreams were in fluorescent light,

My only goal was to forget what I was worth.

I want to see how it takes me.

I want to see how the powder burns.

Don't want to keep what I can't have more of.

Don't want to wait and miss my turn.

I started working as a tour guide,

I thought it would make me believe my own words.

Every patient thought just passed me by,

Every truth I said sounded just absurd.

I started working at a small town church,

I thought it would make me a better man.

They said the sins I had would fly away,

As if the birds were in the palms of my own hands.

I want to see how it takes me,

I want to see how the powder burns.

Don't want to keep what I can't have more of,

Don't want to wait and miss my turn.