deep one perfect morning as the sun is heading up into the sky and i'm sitting here warming to the coldness of the things that meet my eye something in me's stirring and the moon and all the stars fail to comply and my thoughts are turning backwards and i'm picking at the pieces of a world that keeps turning the screws into my mind something in me's chilling and nothing in me's willing to focus my attention on the sky past the weakened eyes that feel and scream into your soul => better to paint my hate on the walls<= before the picture goes and my thoughts are turning backwards and i'm picking at the pieces of a world that keeps turning the screws in my mind and i can see a wide world for me to tame