From Wrinkled Post-Its Found In My Pockets This AM

Sleeping with a curse, it's how I walk through life. Tired of forgetting it all, but memory follows hope right now. I only wake up with thoughts of this ending up in your arms.

Narcolepsy has me watching reruns of myself night after night. Do you know what it's like to offer nothing and expect everything in return? To tilt your head just right, to appear humble? If we pick up the pace we might make the morning edition... because everybody likes to read the bad news.

They've tapped the lines to our reality so be very careful what you say. Speak in code about heartbeats and sleepy eyed women.

Autographs only teach you how to counterfeit signatures on prescriptions. This head is a junk yard for rusted thoughts... a thunderstorm with lightning so bright you cover your eyes.