Cut my hair with a kitchen knife, he
Was a blindfolded visionary. everything
And
nothing was going on in his precious
Head, overfed on ;
Chemicals and
conversation
A speeding train without a station
Crashed at my
event-horizon
Feeling for the switch to turn his eyes on.
And in the news,
they have to say he is a
Blinfolded visionary. i scrape the clouds
Of rouge from his
face and he's white as
Noise.
