P O D

Wide awake in the candlelight

Stoned straight, crashing

Ocean wave patterns and sunset

In their prime

Shoulder demons tell me

How to lie when it matters

And you better hope

That you see it coming

Painted grey and blurry

I am waiting for the sock to drop

Yes I can fake it, hide, run away

When there's nothing left to know...nothing

Lonely like a living room

Hallway noises and interviews

Squeeze the globe in between

Your legs and hope God knows

When to show his face when it matters

And you better hope

That you're feeling something

Pained by the worry

I am stained by the learning

Of what I can't feel, see, think, undo

I'm going to Mexico where there's

Nothing but the sun...nothing

The four walls entertaining

Me are symbols of my contentment

Of mental and legal poverty

Nine out of ten can't be wrong

I have never learned

The secret of velocity

As I expand I feel small

I have nothing left

That I can draw from

I have nothing left...nothing