The poetry of this hangover
I don't want to think, Not 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 peoples 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 could 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 |