Hangover

Lights too bright
Tongue feels dry
Enthusiasm nothing but a hidden thought
In this head of mine

The muffled sound of someone chundering
On the early morning train and I think...
'I hope that wasn't me'

Breath to melt a block of steel plagues
Me in a cloud of mist.
The floor rises to meet me very, very fast.

Ow.

It’s quite nice on the floor.
I think I’ll stay here.