Can't think a straight line beyond the hill/ It seems like a mountain next to an ocean behind/ A thrill almost in my reach/ If there's a way I
could/ Feel the face of intelligence/ I'm a man, I would understand/ What a good head says...you're no me/ Can't see the forest for all/
The green, it all gets in my way/ Can't dig a desert without/ The need for old religion, for holy grails/ And a Jesus nail through the head/
For all the pain and misguided faith/ My mind erased before I had time/ To waste my afternoon

Every thirty days a light goes on / And brightens my backyard a yellow/ Dying sun/ I bite my tongue and swallow pride and blood/ On
some other plane I have/ Become affected drawn and strange/ I'm inclined to blame/ My Mother for dressing me like a girl/ I don't know
maybe that's kind of weird

A teenage breakdown without the will/ Or without thinking/ Taking low roads and coloured pills/ Always searching/ Maybe then I would
find / A place in this mess/ It swells a vein that the only things/ That are keeping me awake/ Are re-runs of the Mod Squad and cartoons

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): ANDREW P KOSHOWSKI, BRUCE GORDON, CHRISTOPHER KOSHOWSKI