fog

Sometimes I don't know what I am doing.
I like Sundays because it is my day to do nothing.
But the again, doing nothing can make me start thinking.
Thinking of things I don't really want to.
Things that I shouldn't care about - the past -
but I do. Sorry.
My mind goes foggy.
And I can't stop thinking.
Of all those things that were.
And that will be.
I just pray that they will be.
Because I don't like being in this haze.



well in know it's just a spring haze
but i don't much like the look of it
and if omens are a god send like men
breezing in
certain these clouds go somewhere
billowing out to somewhere

in a single engine cessna
you say we'll never make it there
so all we do is circle it

uh oh. let go. off on my way
unseen this eternal wanting
uh oh. way to go
so i get creamed
waiting on sunday to drown
uh oh. way to go.
waiting on sunday
waiting on sunday to land
uh oh. way to go.
waiting on sunday
waiting on sunday to drown

so i know it's just a spring haze
but i don't much like the look of it
but all we do is circle it
and i found out where my edge is
and it bleeds into where you resist
and my only way out is to go
so far in
billowing out to somewhere
billowing out luna riviera
billowing out to somewhere

uh oh. let go. off on my way
unseen this eternal wanting
let go. so far. really getting creamed
waiting on sunday to land

why does it always end up like this
waiting on sunday so i get creamed
waiting for sunday to drown