The Toss & Turn

Five days a week, I wake up stuck
And fall back asleep where I started from
Can you really "slip" into bed alone?

[yo yo yo man kill that, kill that man]
[yo, Jel, why the hell you stoppin' me man?]
[you need to kick that shit you was droppin' a couple of months ago, man]
[oh like that?]
[yeah]
[check it out]

...

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