My mind is going a mile a minute
been around a trillion times
and it's still not finished.
I heard the words coming before they fell:
echoes of an downpour were there infront of the bend
it was faded away; I was surprized to find it near
Straight as I was until then.
It's cold out here in the rain
(obscured by mists of dry-ice steam)
so forgive me if i'm frigid; i'm 70% water
but that's not enough to float in here
and my mind can't swim breathing nicotine.
Sometimes what comforts is what kills
and tangents always lead back to the source;
roads don't care if they're winding
just as long as you don't stand still.
I'm going a trillion miles an hour
the faster i go the slower it seems
as the road looks up and smiles; not minding.