Will Parsons sits on a bar stool at Capt. Tony's
His gaze fixated on a point
Somewhere beyond his glass of Bacardi 151
Wondering where to go next
Now that he has reached the end of the line

It seems a fleeting accomplishment
That he can't feel the pain
He knows it is still out there searching for him
And now that he has run out of highway
It's only a matter of time until it catches up

Torpor may not seem much of an aspiration
But is sure beats self flagellation
And where better to take a vacation
From the flood of recrimination
Than among the fire eating jugglers of Mallory Square

He always did what was expected
But the beaten path never felt easy
The gears in his life just never meshed
So he stuck his thumb out on the Boston Post Road
And kept taking rides till he got to the end

The wife and the house in Connecticut
Never really felt real
The more he achieved
What he thought were his goals
The harder he found it to breathe

So he started coping by cheating
Taxes at first
Then came the affairs
When that didn't do it
Pilfering things from his neighbors

One day he discovered
That his wife had been sleeping
With his old friend Jeremy Clark
Screaming first "How could she do this?"
Then realizing "How could she not?"

So he stuck his thumb out on the Boston Post Road
And kept taking rides till he got to the end
He still doesn't know
If this is what he wants
But there's just no further to go

There is no work here for a Proposal Manager
He can't seem to think of a plan
So he tells everyone he's a writer
As he sits on a stool where Hemingway sat
While he waits for the truth to appear in his glass

He barely glances
At the bikini clad tourists
Who come stumbling down Duval
What's the value of the easy hookup
When you feel so empty inside?

Willie feels lost
Though he knows where he's sitting
On the stool he considers his
He feels there's a future
But he sure doesn't know what it is

He tells everyone he's a writer
As he rises from the stool where Hemingway sat
It's time for the lecture from Bible Bill
So he ambles slowly to Whitehead from Greene
To watch the sun dive into the sea

The fact that he's at the end of the road
Doesn't mean there is nowhere to go
Today it may seem as if life has stalled
But as sure as the sun sets over Mallory Square
Tomorrow a new one will rise