gotta lot riding on it

heres me in 1985

i was talking to a reporter

a piece of my mind

all set to music

put into words

enamel finish

a soft transfer

a movement on a graph

ideas where do they come from

love where does  it go

money burn blow away

fall awake asleep

i cant be alone

push myself away

change events in the replay

i am anyway

cant hear what with my ears

my head knuckled down

000

eyes were stabbed by a ray

but i see real sad stuff

mother father of sick kids

it rains

cosmic influx of malevolence

power escapes as wrath

wrath seethes away as a hiss

we shot overhead

we head overshot

i dream a new end

i create monster

i tinker with hook line sinker

i fed ex document

i said word

i beg yer pardner

thats it

exhausted