Pseudoephedrine Hydrochloride

Beneath his eyes the newspaper dripped thru his hands, with a head full of cheap cold medicine
He's returned from beyond the 'way over there'

His aluminum alloy twist-o-flex wrist band biting into his skin
A cotton swab full of ointment and gin
He's mixing his X's with his Z's

A syrupy cup on his shoulder, the plastic cap snaps back on the bottle, his hand too dozed to peel the label
He wants to...

His eyes blurred with antihistamine, he drops the bottle and looks out the window
The day feverishly splinters into his eyes and hands, miraculous awake and alive

The burnt and broken head of a matchstick lies dead asleep on the table
The blade splits the pill in two
And he starts to go home...

Beneath his eyes the newspaper dripped thru his hands, with a head full of cheap cold medicine
He's returned from beyond the 'way over there' with a stomach chock full of holes