Quixiotic Kicks

Quixotic Kicks
Quixotic kicks always making me sick
Never ending craving, starting so thick
Sliding all those truths, trying to make them stick
Always coming close
But never getting a hit
Yeah yeah yeah
Quixotic kicks
Dust on my boots
And they're flipping the script
Misspelled marquee
And the bulbs never lit
Words on my chest, that never seem to fit
I want action that’s never going to quit
Quixotic kicks
Driving real fast and I’m starting to drift
Acting real tight and I’m hedging my bets
Swinging for the fence, but I always seem to miss
I want love but I only seem to get
Those Quixotic Kicks
Struck real hard like a nail in the head
Woodshed ideas till we put them to bed
Rinse out the prints as we’re forging ahead
Never surprised by what passes for Zen
It’s Quixotic kicks