Cut my hair with a kitchen knife, he Was a blindfolded visionary. everything And nothing was going on in his precious Head, overfed on ; Chemicals and conversation A speeding train without a station Crashed at my event-horizon Feeling for the switch to turn his eyes on. And in the news, they have to say he is a Blinfolded visionary. i scrape the clouds Of rouge from his face and he's white as Noise.