If I was cemented on that one-way highway
words could not be said loud and fast enough...

I don't know how many shots of vodka
I've had, definitely more than two, clear liquid...

4:13
and I count down...

You spend my wages willfully, gleefully,
tasting the rotting flesh between my teeth...

His love disappears
when I need...

...

I'm gong to move away
from all I've taught myself...

...

...

Running on
empty perspectives...

Too often I cloud up the meaning of you.
It's all you, God...

You write me a prelude-
a stroke of sailing hands...