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