Fourteen hours ahead - a head that's heavier than lead and I've got toothpicks in my eyes. A smile
more yellow than the sky. I've got a song stuck in my head. One that I miss more than my bed. It's a
song sung from a fallen milkman who's drinking bleach instead. I'm much like him. Fourteen hours
unfed. I spent the last cents in my head. They're worth much less than pennies now. Food for one
thought shared with a crowd. And I've got a painting in my head. A deeper blue bled thicker red.
More red than bloody marys coast to coast. I hate flying I said - that's what I said. Sad sorry
excuse. Just like everything that made her smile and everything I use. I won't go back to the way it
was. I'm now huffing gas and sniffing paint to take away this buzz that I call you.