Life in the Hands

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Brian Dickens

3:46

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I put my life in the hands of a doctor out in Concord
And then a carriage as my parents half consciously sauntered 
To a wood covered station wagon with a big old dent in the bumper 
That my Dad put there once he got the call that nine months wasn't ever gunna come after all
That I was joining the party now and no one had a say in the matter
But sometimes even still, I wish that I was killed by my prenatal anxiety to enter this stupid world
So the existential sorrow it might end before it began, but still I learned how to stand

I put my life in the hands of a lady named Edie who drove the bus to school
Made it look so easy, to hack the toxic vat that we were both nearing
I came to know the terror that I learned awaited, that hurting coercion by five letter grading
But by the end of the day, Edie and I would be hanging
Blasting WAAF and putting those speakers to the test
And how all the others would protest and request a new soundtrack for the ride
She'd turn the big mirror, look them straight in the eye
And say "don't ask again to change it to 94.5!" 

I put my life in the hands of a Wal Mart clerk who sold me my first AC/DC record
Who knew the trouble that I'd get into for just ten dollars?
I got the hang of the blues in a Texas flood, I came to stand the weather by Stevie Ray's sun
I stood atop a stack of my Momma's vinyls to feel taller
But I keep tuning out my Dad, when he asks, "man
What's your backup plan, once your stage lights dim, all your flyers rip
You turn 36, still living out of bag?" and I'm working on an answer
But until then, I hope he likes my songs, and even when they're sad (which is a lot)

But I see it in his stares. When I talk at him it's like I'm not even there
But most days, I might agree- I'm elsewhere cooking up my dreams

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