Guns fire for the rat race
I stumble on my suitcase
The crowd is frozen now
and I am slipping on their ice
Drive backwards down the highway
trees bending through the light rays
I see it now OK
I won't be trampled by my thoughts
Teeth twisting in the heatwave
Day dreaming of a clean wave
I see it go away
My thoughts are sleeping in the dust
until another day
I'll let them curl up in the rust