Deatherton to mold city and back Eye wonderment incarnate Eye candy repeating losing its sweet salting my swollen tongue 200 miles of little voices little people bad reception contrived grandiose ideas nothing at all A tiny man in the tire tread screams Irish drinking songs I can’t hear him through The rumble of absent thought My chattering gears of unchallenged ideas I can’t hear him through the grinding of my metal teeth Addictive and bored a bad combination Not today maybe tomorrow Okay just this once None too late I have arrived