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