My sutured mind
Post-op’ed and dry
Keeps slowly does it time
Impaled by [bad word] Shot up with your
Four in the morning eyes
Where do I go?
Where do I go?

Where do I go?
Where do I go?

She’s drifting ‘round
My barren ground
Breaks slowly cold or crazed
These dust dead eyes
Are focused far
Behind these summer days

Where do I go?……

And will [bad word] of age?
Make your day?
Be precious and contrived?
Or will I blow you all away?

Where do I go?……..