And I don't even live today.
And your motor's got nuthin' to do with it.
I'm warm in a hoarse kinda way.
If you imagine it differently, then you're dreaming.
In a game of blunt sensations, I'm draggin' myself back over.
Now! Dancing the instinctual sun-dance.
And you don't even know what I mean.
I wrote numbers and drew a heart around them.
I sat, quietly, at home, while they traveled the globe.
I know that I would have killed him, in my dream, if I had caught him -
but the bastard escaped in the thicket.
By the rules of dull emotions, it's back to the land of the "living."
Naked, numb and howling at the moon.
And you don't even know what I mean.
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