I have a guitar; I know I do.
I’ve ran my fingers down the fret board, I always place it by the door,
and it’s right where I left it.
I have a job; I know I do.
I’ve cashed my weekly paycheck, I always show up on time,
and it’s just the way I left it.
I have a lover; I know I do.
I’ve traced my finger down her neck line, I always pick her up by eight,
and she’s just as I remember.
I had a father; I know I did.
I’ve held his hand as he lay dying, I always touch the headstone,
and it’s as cold as I remember.
I have a life; I know I do.
Things are so predictable. I can count on them,
even when I don’t want to.