Isolation

Isolation's at my fingertips but I refuse to take a-hold.
There's no way to complain 'bout being left in the cold.
That I would do purely because of a force of habit.
I've longed for this cup but now I hesitate to grab it.
Couldn't wait to take that long, far road to somewhere,
Follow it far enough to be too distant from havin' to care.
Sometimes I see myself lookin' back down that old road,
Back to that space I occupied in that humblin' old abode.
The truth is plain to see it's much too hard to hide.
In order to keep my isolation I must head on outside.
If I stayed inside forever I would surely have to die.
True isolation would be in the casket in which I'd lie.
I take all the isolation I can have and will ever desire.
Someday I'll have more than I need when I finally retire.
By then my wish is to be headin' down a final route.
The argument over how much I've wasted will be moot.