It's a monday morning, cold winter's day, nothing outside is real. Step in the car, turn the key, put on some heat, begin to feel. Then i blink my eyes to make sure i'm me and think about catching a buzz Box my ears, clean my nose, got to get in gear because I've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head. And i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led. I'm rolling down the highway at a safe and sane sixty per Seems so easy, seems so right to pull over and jump the curb. The steering wheel begins to shift a little to my right. My palms become sweaty and i jerk in a flash of light. I slam on the breaks and screech to a halt. Pedestrians are swerving, i laugh cause it's my fault. Calm as can be i pull back into traffic, Speeding towards my hell cause i like my violence graphic. The trees and leaves become superimposed on the sky My vision is consumed with the greenness going by. I've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head. And i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led. At 7:50 i'm stopped behind a school bus filled with pubes. Wouldn't it be funny, i think, to sell the little f**ers 'ludes? But then a thought occurs to me from long ago when i was young Of the fear i had inside me at the prospect of barbiturate fun. Oh, how the times they change, i cackle deep inside As i speed past that yellow sh** puking carbon monoxide. I've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head. And i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led. I've got five minutes to bolt, can't be late to my hell When that cold hits me again, who i am i cannot tell. What's reality is a mystery brought on by too much thought. My concepts collapse my sense of being caught Between the cold air surrounding me and the emptiness inside. My head is k**ing me, and i've got no place to hide.