five days a week i wake up stuck and fall back asleep where i started from can you really slip into bed alone lead a man to the altar never make him kneel i lead em to the club remind em how to feel son of a one time new age healer and a door to door book of the dead dealer who would ve thought the dancefloor packed by a guy who can t even recall his dreams woo ha toss turn yeah ha toss turn teachers do the toss turn last indians do the toss turn step moms do the toss turn exes do the toss turn daytraders do the toss turn zapatistas do the toss turn widows do the toss turn everbody do the toss turn hold up there s been a strike at the dream plant seems they re demanding a new routine until then i ll lie alone toss and turn like a broken wing an oakland wind in a frisco fog when a neutral sun in the city beams god made all my mornings on a secondhand hollywood smoke machine a poor man s fall an east bay spring sometimes in life the set writes the scene and if you ve ever helped your girl move out of your house then you know what i mean the watch dogs knell the bus brakes wail they turn oakland on at 7 a m every morning and then off again at twelve what can it mean when the walls read r i p dream nervous breakdown this is how you do the toss turn ha uncross your arms ha ha ha uncross your legs now turn on your side and now the other side uncross your arms uncross your legs there s nothing more pointless than a pile of crosses give it to me now show me my dischography and i ll sign the apology a follower and his bedroom pens led by chance and sedatives tear me down then build me again in a world with less to lose in the end you might call it some type of faith withdraw as fade ways therapy happens to involve watching headlights break up bits of peeling paint on a borrowed wall me and a futon a two ply fault line now that s a thought to snap the spine of a pillow poet s wife huh where though waiting outside in line of tomorrows tying a night s worth of sheets from the window trying to break out the blanketed barrow ain t no way to find a why to wake up these days i make up as i go along but all that i meet are mouthing same things like they know the song like it s always on laugh track in the can and they laugh along like our lives are lines out of failed sitcoms cold lampin lightless in my private dark and if dark don t rhyme we ll make it black i hold a face the way a pane of glass on a store holds those in cars that pass toss and turn till my skin falls away in folds holding my own face flat keep a keg of sleeping pills on tap and do the dance till my shit collapse