Life drags its face through your water You turn the red lights on You hide your eyes from the alter And spit on me

It’s okay that you don’t know And spill your glass of wine You’re as shallow as a whisper Your diamond eyes don’t shine

Escape your soul from its memory Talk to strangers in rhymes Exit slowly and bow your head It’s getting later this time

You check again with the watchman You think she still might come Acting so dumb in your reasons You think she still might come

Where are your senses? Where are your senses? She lied, open your eyes Where are your senses? Where are your senses? You think she still might come

Ego is shattered to pieces You scatter it all to the wind And your blind, don’t say nothing And your blind and your blind And your blind

© 3/30/1997 William Grant Preston

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