Not Back

Stupor Time
by Marco Tulio Thrash

Stupor gun, set to stun.
I've been hit, head split.
Bus Ride. Another Home.
Fashion spreads and countryside,
I can't decide where to look.
Bus Ride. Another Home.

Position closed, join the queue.
Guess the face in front of you.
Sometimes, I ask myself
Is there a point in moving on?
Meeting point, to avoid.
Wait in line, mistaken times.
Sometimes, I ask myself
Is there a point in moving on?

[CHORUS]
Stupor hangs over my face
like a tudor veil.
Tear it away, save my soul!
Tear it away, oh let me see!
Tear it away, save my soul!
Tear it away, oh let me see!
Stupor hangs over my face
like a tudor veil.
[CHORUS]

Letters jitter w/ every bump.
Opposite views, creative slump.
Bus Ride. Another Home.
A house of cards on my lap,
another silo passed me by.
Bus Ride. Another Home.

Crisp notes in my pocket
are slowly replaced by sales receipts.
Sometimes, I ask myself:
Is there a point in moving on?
Cash machines that do not work,
how can I operate?
Sometimes, I ask myself:
Is there a point in moving on?

[CHORUS]x2

as it should have been performed at the Pop In Open Mic Night on January 22nd, 2006