Looking through the haze of Sunday morning Making his way out into the swarm Choking on a breath of misty diesel Through the eyes of a killing floor Looking left and right to check his safety He shifts into first and rolls along He keeps his mind fixated on the highway One more drink and he'll be rocking on The man who walks in circles Staring at the walls The land of endless tree tops is knocking on your door Don't be no fool open up your door Get on out of there and let the fun begin Walking on a vision of broken glass Splinters break through cracks that light the way He opened up that door and started moving Not looking back into the haze All those misty days of that troubled town