concentrated on not making a mistake
i fucked up
first chance i got

tops of sky scrapers
lost in fog
lit from below

first, snow on the cars,
then on the ground.
guess it's winter after all

the music confirms my suspicion:
the people aren't real,
but it's really happening.

voices distorted
to the monotonous buzz
of insects

probably the first time
i wish it would stop
going downhill

in the night
streets don't go uphill
they just slow you down

he's surprised and annoyed
that i didn't vanish
into thin air

complete sentences
are out; now it's
personal insults

driving fast
not to be someplace sooner
just to know I'm alive