Lucid

on a cold white afternoon

in the terrible month of june

i wake in someone else's bed

i cannot feel a thing

this water tastes like gin

there are devils dancing in my head

my brain is cleaved in half

i think that i'm in love

but i don't know

how? who with? or why?

my body's made of ice

my heart is made of mice

enough to make a big boy cry

as bright as the moon that sometimes shines through

as deep as the thoughts that seep through with truth

there's an echo, there's a memory, there's a vision to come.

the voice that tells you to run

you're just beyond my reach

you are my giant peach

i've seen you somewhere else before

the voice that tells you to run

which one d'you think you are

my gun or my guitar

are you divisible by four

the voice that tells you to run