Out of gas

A song/poem I wrote awhile ago; it's unfinished, but it is what it is.

Well,
I fell down here a long, long time ago.
My heart grew so heavy
that the earth dropped my soul.
Now I'm down here,
just a-sittin' in the cool shade-
you know, the weather's pretty fair...
except for the rain.

All of our hopes
and all of our dreams
that run all our lives:
the gold guillotine.

They line either side of the
highway, a runway for you...
They'd all come so far...
Now they've all rusted through.

See now, Atlas left a long, long time ago.
Grew tired of
the bickering in his ears.
Now there's just four buckled pillars;
they're achin' to rest,
so don't stand beneath'em...
if you know what's best.

And all of our hopes
and all of our dreams
that run all our lives:
the gold guillotine,

they line either side of
the highway for you.
They'd all come so far...
Now they've all rusted through.