Thin air in your hair brain A mounting problem for your train of thought Misstepping through the trip wires A fallen arc of sweat and blood Cheese dripping from the noose You always were a fan of drama And paid to see loved ones' decay On a stage too high to reach Blind and stinging, wet and barely living Bound and insulated yet loose enough to lie High and crying, wasted and dying Made to believe there's nothing much to like It dawned the day you knew nothing Remember how it burned your eyes An epitaph for no one's glory Collecting spit from the world outside Tilted, forced off your axis Clenching, bound down to the edge Relentless, overbearing in your nature And you've always pretended to be somebody else