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
