I hate the past

I can't see anything at all, all I see is me
that's clear enough
and that's whats important, to see me

my eyes can focus
my brain is talking
looks pretty good to me
my head's on straight, my girlfriend's beautiful
looks pretty good to me

sometimes I speak
tonight there's nothing to say
sometimes we freak
and laugh all day

hold these pages up to the light
see the jacknife inside of the dream
a railroad runs through the record stores at night
coming in for the deep freeze

Mary: a simple word, are you there in the country?
Yr eyes so full, yr head so tight
can't you hear me?
Remember our talk
that day on the phone?
I was the door, and you were the station
with shattered glass and miles between us
we still flew away in the conversation

my cup is full, and I feel okay
the world is dull, but not today

she think's she's a goddess
she says she talks to the spirits
I wonder if she can talk to herself?
If she can bear to hear it?

this is Eric's trip
we've all come to watch him slip
he's slipping all the way to Texas
can you dig it?

(Eric says "The sky is blue...")
I see with a glass eye
the pavement view
a shadow forming, across the fields rushing
thru me to you

we tore down the world, and put up four walls
I breathe in the myth
I'm over the city, fucking the future
I'm high and inside yr kiss

we can't see clear
but what we see is a alright
we make up what we can't hear
and then we sing all night

scattered pages and shattered lights
a jacknife and a dream
there's something moving over there on the right
like nothing I've never seen