Pearl Jam

Routine was the theme
Hed wake up, wash and pour himself into uniform
Something he hadnt imagined being
As the merging traffic passed
He found himself staring down
At his own hands
Not remembering the change
Not recalling the plan
Was it?
He was okay
But wondering
About wandering
Was it age?
By consequence?
Or was he moved sleight of hand?
Mondays were made to fall
Lost on a road he knew by heart
It was like a book he read in his sleep, endlessly
Sometimes he hid in his radio
Watching others pull into their homes
While he was drifting