Picture you're home. (Red Shoes)

Hold it there. It's gone too far. The world's on fast forward.  
I'm running from the bar  
to the car and yet still staring  
at stars  
between the two bicycles  
on the roof-rack  
that take me to a place.  
It is quieter than here.  
 
I've been sitting in a bird cage,  
on the backstreet of piss  
and booze that leave bruises  
I can't remember and allow me to lose  
control...  
until I am a bundle,  
a burden to deal with.  
A way to amuse the masses because it feels clever and unique  
at the time, until the high defuses me.  
 
"Sweat it out."  
As if I wasn't dehydrated already  
soon I am unsteady on my feet  
surrounded by liquor and smoke and Mandy holding  
my hands, tight. The man stands, coping better than I.  
It shows he's bigger, taller  
and I'm, a teddy bear, the woman.  
I was more frightened than a Mayan in December,  
 Two-Thousand and Twelve.  
Happy New Year you high, heady thing.