The poetry of this hangover
I don't want to think, not
Too hard anyway

The scenery and fish, they're bad
Take another breath, another look and swallow
Holding the hand of hard times

And fallout
It could be worse...my star could fall


Pacified by little things
Tones of beige and green seem
To halt a scream in waiting

All red eyes, all heads thinking
No one says anything I can
Hear down here on the floor

Where I belong

Too young to find the horses

Too young fighting causes
I get overwhelmed
And I feel three days old


Another day goes and fails
The people lose control just 'cause

Things are going slow
Your corduroy coat has left you
Just when you're feeling the wind

And cold
Then comes a rain of old thoughts
That always have to wreck my high

And bring me down

You and I are not the same

You like everything
Arms wave in a spin, blown by
Things I've hated, I've faded to the point

Where I'm not all there
Curled up on the floor
Where I belong