Last night I got wasted
So I could end the day.
Old Joe Peña and I sat there well basted
Till the blur bar faded away.
And I could smell the sweet sunshine on my face
Like when I was small.
And I could hear the chirping birds singing
While the orange and gold leaves began to fall.
When I woke up it was a new morning.
I was only sick from the night before.
The day attacked me without warning.
(Like I was just in its way)
In high isolation.
Reinventing the unending day
In high isolation.
Writer(s): Howe Gelb
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