We drink ourselves to sleep. The company we keep intoxicates us beyond belief. We lay backwards in bed and pray for a peace to chase our revelry at least. A world of words unfurls and every one's such work and everynight's a hollow light.

We lie half the time.

The ghosts of cuba road relocate to my place, apartment south of grace. They keep the pace of cars and waltz around the windows and fall in front of all these bars. And I'm just feeling spent, what with all the rent and (not to mention) exorcism.

We lie half the time.

Who let our spirit come down? Calm down. Who let my spirit come down? Calm down.

Where's the boy in me that hates the man I am? That cares if no one calls. And where's that harmony that rattles in the teeth? That clicks off one two three.

We lie half the time.