If I try my hardest to get by
I suppose I'll make it on this road
It's blazed and worn by the travelers before
It's the only way they'd ever known
But I'm a washed up wreck with a yolk around my neck
A void is growing in my soul
Woe is me I could scream, but I'm discovering
That woe is everyone I know
So I take my ax and I strike out from the pack
To find another way to go
While the rest trudge on I will break into a run
And charge into the undergrowth
When I die I want to know I tried
To cut myself another road
So when they burn my bones and my ashes all have blown away
I'll say I made this life my own
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