Pop the pill the lines are moving heaving breathing
Driving in the dark. No car behind. No car before me.
Smoking my brain numb, then sick k k and sicker
Migraines hold on tight oh blood covers my left eye
Blind and singing with a tightened steering wheel
Remember to stay in this lane, don't leave it.
Cigarettes smeared on the highway road.
Ga-gah I heave this is foul, I'm sick sick sick.
Take this pill.
When it cushions you to sleep, at least you are happy.
The arrangements of letters on the screen are a circus: refusing to stand still they are hardly organized in what you may call a line.
Man behind me, he doesn't exist except when you're sickened by traveling blues and you look up at your rearview mirror, and there, he's looking back, sitting comfortably in your backseat. He's my constant passenger. I am wrenched from my naval to my heart to the thin part of my skin under the chin and I feel shredded. Music-less ride, pleasant until my heart started collapsing, and I gripped for the wheel. It was wonderful, but now I'm coming down, and I'm in pain. I need to drink. Pale drinks, carbonated drinks, teas. I'm officially drunk and now I can see that because my life is shortened, I understand better why people live their lives. It's because I can see my endgame. It's a goal. Self-fulfillment. Making you the way you want to be, see all, feel all, nourish nourish thanks Joni Mitchell for writing my soul's thoughts.
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