Looking through the haze of Sunday morning
Making his way out into the swarm
Choking on a breath of misty diesel
Through the eyes of a killing floor
Looking left and right to check his safety
He shifts into first and rolls along
He keeps his mind fixated on the highway
One more drink and he'll be rocking on
The man who walks in circles
Staring at the walls
The land of endless tree tops is knocking on your door
Don't be no fool open up your door
Get on out of there and let the fun begin
Walking on a vision of broken glass
Splinters break through cracks that light the way
He opened up that door and started moving
Not looking back into the haze
all those misty days of that troubled town

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