I don't care what color your parachute is and I pay no mind when you cut in my line. A cursory nod of the head and away I go, I'm happy to walk and stand in these shoes. Misery loves company. And there's a line behind you. So you think I'm some sort of parody of a feeble mind, a ne'er-do-well. Your insincere tidings and resume linings go day by day, you and your lot in your windsor knot ties. C'est la vie, stripes all over me, but I got mine the hard way. How happy we are all going down together. On separate rides but just the same. Going miles away from the box our lives arrived in. Some lose the tags, some don't return.