16. I Can't Complain

CAN’T COMPLAIN

My friend Danny says, “how ya doin,”
I says, “I’m ramblin’ through the wreck and the ruin.”
He says, “Really, man, how’s it goin?”
I say, “Whichever way the wind is blowin.”

I might cry like the fallin’ rain,
I might walk ‘til I forget my name,
I’m takin’ nothing to ease the pain
so I can’t complain.

I might wear out my walkin’ boots,
I might tear out my hair by the roots,
I might want to disconnect my brain,
but I can’t complain.

I might sing this blues refrain
‘til people say, “you’re makin’ us insane.”
I might hop onto a fat freight train
but I can’t complain.

I might read every single book
‘bout how to think and how to breathe and how to cook,
I might be buckling under the strain
but I can’t complain.

It seems like I’ve been treading water
for so long that I feel like an otter,
so if someone pulls the plug right out of the drain
I can’t complain.

I might tell you that I’m tired of trying
to wade through all the petty lying.
You can hand me down my walkin’ cane
but I can’t complain.

So if you ask me what’s goin’ on,
I might talk at you until the dawn,
but outta all of this stuff I’m sayin’
you won’t hear me complainin’.

I might float down the Poncetrain
without leaving a trace or a stain.
This vanity is all in vain)
so I can’t complain.