Lucid کے بول

on a cold white afternoon in the terrible month of june i wake in someone else's bed i cannot feel a thing this water tastes like gin there are devils dancing in my head my brain is cleaved in half i think that i'm in love but i don't know how? who with? or why? my body's made of ice my heart is made of mice enough to make a big boy cry as bright as the moon that sometimes shines through as deep as the thoughts that seep through with truth there's an echo, there's a memory, there's a vision to come. the voice that tells you to run you're just beyond my reach you are my giant peach i've seen you somewhere else before the voice that tells you to run which one d'you think you are my gun or my guitar are you divisible by four the voice that tells you to run