Gun It, No Don't

Most the time it's the rat race
On the road to find my face
I will always lose the mask
Tell the band to cart it back
Coming up from landscape lows
Coming home in dirty clothes
Pockets full of empty change
I will always rearrange them
There's a hornet's nest in my head
Oh, what am I supposed to do?
How am I to carry you?
Disappointment longs in my heart
Just to plant another seed
I will find a way to feed them
I rehearse this on the plane
Hydroplane in mourning rain
Barely fill your lights butane
Little sparks but fire's wane
Most the time I'm a burn out
Juggling life from hand to mouth
I enact a show for you
Try will let it go for you
And the question burns thru my head
What am I supposed to do?
How am I to carry them thru?
It's puzzle missing it's parts
Half of life that seems short lived
Maybe all that I can give them
Coming up from landscape lows
Coming home in shotty clothes
I will simply have to change
I will always rearrange my face
Gun it, no don't