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.