It was the strangest weeknI come to in the county seatnWith my hands tied fast behind my backnRemembering, running through the rotting leaves...nSt. Nike, please, help me nownThe fox, the fawn, the floodlight drawnnIlluminates everything, and all you ever wanted to seennBe careful what you do with all your choicesnAnd don't give up the fantasies for liesnAnd don't believe everything that you hearnCause they're alcoholics who can't dreamnAnd they want you to feel the samenAnd you know you've got to listen to the windnBefore you're taken innnAt the brooknYou know I couldn't read the signsnI crossed my eyes on the dotted linesnThat fence post looks familiarnSo does the painted horse... Which way to turn nownIs it left or right?nConfusion in everything I seennOh little stranger, what have you done?nYou're a suicidal in the setting sun.nOh and is it a dream?nBut if it's real what does it mean?nnIt's a hummer made of Hollandaise and glassnDrinking glasses filled with gin and gasolinenAn iPod with 10,000 boring songsnBut isn't there one summing up the terrible summer you've just had?nSinner man, Nina Simone, The other woman...nAnd where you gonna run to now my friend?nNow that the Evening DescendsnA well lit heated castle in the skynWith Simon Belmont, Doris Day, and Camel Lights