The Steering Column

I don't mean to get heavy and solemn
But I'm a mess everywhere above the steering column.
I'm a slave to bad decisions.  My yoke
Is that I don't read the signals.  I'm blind to the smoke.

I never give up the chase myself,
So life brings her to me -- with somebody else.
I'm always rushing, red-faced, irate;
I don't ask the right questions; I'm five minutes late.
I waffle and waiver and worry and whine
Over things that I should know are lessons and signs,

and I know that it's wrong, but worst of all:
I forget to thank God when realization calls.