Sunday Driver
It's a familiar paradigm
Racing colors
Slowing time
Thoughts of morphing cosmic twine are
Creeping through this head of mine
Take a walk
Go outside
See what maybe we can find
Chills go up my crooked spine but
Still the peak is quite a climb
Perception's doors are open wide
Consciousness starts to slide
Half a day
My brain is fried
Staring at the ceiling tiles
Take a walk
Go outside
See what maybe we can find
Chills go up my crooked spine
But still the peak is quite a climb
Racing colors
Slowing time
Thoughts of morphing cosmic twine are
Creeping through this head of mine
Take a walk
Go outside
See what maybe we can find
Chills go up my crooked spine but
Still the peak is quite a climb
Perception's doors are open wide
Consciousness starts to slide
Half a day
My brain is fried
Staring at the ceiling tiles
Take a walk
Go outside
See what maybe we can find
Chills go up my crooked spine
But still the peak is quite a climb
Credits
Writer(s): Ian Bradhsaw
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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