superheated.

superheated, out of touch.
the people here don't talk too much.
grey skies, blue eyes, but none of it matters.
it's superheated and out of touch.
i lost sync with reality a few years back.
i'll let you know when i find it, or it finds me.
superimposed images of manequins breathing
dance around the streets in packs of ten.
i hope and pray to anyone's god they don't find me again.
i'm superheated, out of touch.
everything is melting in my hands.
to have and to hold doesn't mean a damn thing.
it all trickles away like sand.