Detour. You can’t lose anything, When you know, you’ve let it go, You can’t be what you were, When you know you’ve changed some more. It’s harder to realize, When your minds eye turns blind, And it harder to wonder why, When the lies stab you from behind. Why do you even try? When the trying always fails? Why do seem to care so much? When it hurts to lose again. So many answers are ready, But the questions never asked, You had a voice, and never used it, And now you wish you weren’t back. It’s the start again, and the routine follows, You try to escape, though you’ll be back tomorrow, And wondering never helps, ‘Cause you’ll always be back by yourself. The end is farther than ever been, You never wished to ever be, But there you are, it’s happening again, The faces stare, it’s all the same. The light turns green, the people scream, You wish you would just die in this dream, But you’re awake and the crowd is too, They’re waiting for the best in you. The gangster’s gun, you’re on the run, The bullets fly through everyone, The visions clasp, you gasp for breath, The road is now that familiar red. The river is disturbed, a massacre made, The bodies sleep like they’ve remained, You’re still running, and the end is not near, The more miles conquered, the more you fear. Perhaps there is not end to misery itself, There should be another cure that just might help, And you’re still running uphill, The same road leading nowhere, so silently still. The mob of bullets is right behind, The sign then appears clear in your mind, Detour to hell, yet away from this mare, The next sharp left and you’ll be there.