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