I'm trying to figure out my status here
But the mirror gives me different
As I'm racing towards the end
Sometimes there's nothing left to do
And it's feeling like a hundred miles
Sometimes perspective and inertia
make a bitter tasting pill
And I'm packing all my bags,
Yeah, I'm racing towards the end
Sometimes there's nothing left to do
A little luck, a little life
A little rhyme, a little time
will help me to feel the load
When I feel I'm moving slow,
cause it's so far that I've got to go
But I'm racing towards the end
And sometimes there's nothing left to do
Stunnin', yeah, yeah, yeah
Stun nin', yeah, yeah, yeah,
4.8
