A 2 p.m. morning
I'm greeting
The end of meaning
Open my mind
Just a crack and
Look what crawls in
Now I'm trying to keep my head
Above your dead pool
Deep end
I sold myself in
In on the joke of the spin
But this burned-in cynical grin
Is fading again
Turning the hooks
To catch nothing
I'm let off
You live in your head
And love no one
At all
Spotlit marks for your
Self-styled, comic book
Sharpshooter
Blind spots before
I sold myself in
In on the joke of the spin
Now this burned-in cynical grin
Is fading again
Peeling those tired eyes
To steal and refine
Some sleek pitch line
Wide of the mark
Pressed to define
Connect the dots
Line by line
I sold myself in
In on the joke of the spin
Now this burned-in cynical grin
Is fading again