Broken Compass from Ill Advised by No Matter

Another instance when my sad old pen's
Tired of scratching the same old words
When spleen venting and lamenting
Begins to sound absurd

Another way to describe a day
That drags on by so slow
But yet so fast, if it just won't last
I guess I'll never know

Will this circle ever stop?
Does it rely on circumstance?
(We'll advance if we get the chance)

So I check the map as the road winds on
But my compass is broken, direction wrong
I find it's a tell tale sign that I've been here for too long

So I go on, write another song
Of complacent acquiesce of my own accord
With the same three chords
I've come to know the best

But the worst progress as the rest digress
And take their place in line
With a hateful grin, as they all fall in
They do it every time

• Irish Punk
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