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Looking through the haze of Sunday morning

Making his way out into the swarm

Choking on a breath of misty diesel

Through the eyes of a killing floor

Looking left and right to check his safety

He shifts into first and rolls along

He keeps his mind fixated on the highway

One more drink and he’ll be rocking on

The man who walks in circles

Staring at the walls

The land of endless tree tops is knocking on your door

…Don’t be no fool…open up your door…

Get on out of there and let the fun begin

Walking on a vision of broken glass

Splinters break through cracks that light the way

He opened up that door and started moving

Not looking back into the haze

…all those misty days of that troubled town

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