The poetry of this hangover/ I don`t want to think, not/ Too hard anyway/ The scenery and fish, they`re bad/ Take another breath,
another look and swallow/ Holding the hand of hard times/ And fallout/ It could be worse...my star could fall
Pacified by little things/ Tones of beige and green seem/ To halt a scream in waiting/ All red eyes, all heads thinking/ No one says
anything I can/ Hear down here on the floor/ Where I belong
Too young to find the horses/ Too young fighting causes/ I get overwhelmed/ And I feel three days old
Another day goes and fails/ The people lose control just `cause / Things are going slow/ Your corduroy coat has left you/ Just when
you`re feeling the wind/ And cold/ Then comes a rain of old thoughts/ That always have to wreck my high/ And bring me down
You and I are not the same/ You like everything/ Arms wave in a spin, blown by/ Things I`ve hated, I`ve faded to the point/ Where I`m
not all there/ Curled up on the floor/ Where I belong Send " Three Days Old" Ringtone to your Cell