Whitewashed Yarn

Opening the gifts
The cards, the packages, the stockings
Nothing was the same
Instead of a present
I got a little white ball of yarn
A ball of whitewashed yarn
I picked it up and fell to the floor
Then I looked to my hand
And saw the strings attached
To my palms in my hand
The ball kept rolling
And I kept running for it
I run for it now
To keep my sanity
But I wonder if this ball of yarn
Is my everlasting insanity
I just keep chasing it
Until the yarn is all gone
But it seems like it always keeps rolling
To a neverending stream
Rolling... rolling... rolling
Rolling... rolling... rolling