Lucid

on a cold white afternoon
in the terrible month of june
i wake in someone else's bed

i cannot feel a thing
this water tastes like gin
there are devils dancing in my head

my brain is cleaved in half
i think that i'm in love
but i don't know
how? who with? or why?

my body's made of ice
my heart is made of mice
enough to make a big boy cry

as bright as the moon that sometimes shines through
as deep as the thoughts that seep through with truth
there's an echo, there's a memory, there's a vision to come.
the voice that tells you to run

you're just beyond my reach
you are my giant peach
i've seen you somewhere else before

the voice that tells you to run

which one d'you think you are
my gun or my guitar
are you divisible by four

the voice that tells you to run