a song for the drunk kid walking his neighborhood, feeling alive and connected to his body again, watching the people in their houses as he passes each yard like one watches the channels flip on the television set. the static and white-noise-click between that puts you in a tiny trance until you’ve zoned out for a few hours and it’s time for bed again and it’s time for work again. and did you have to get up in the middle of the night to pee? did it ruin all your plans for good sleep? that restful 8 hours everyone goes on about. or was it the too-bright-headlights that busted through the blinds? the dog barking out from it’s chain-link walls? or is it just that you’ll never sleep well again? Hell is that you’re always blowing around the Earth, full of desires, and you keep reaching and chasing them and nothing ever happens. go around and ‘round until you notice your own spinning and start to feel nauseous.