Stuck in a traffic hours thick,
The radio synchronized to my brain.
Every sound an aching echo
For the white noise of the pain.

We are so close and very distant,
And one by one we go insane.
We get there faster than we are moving,
Our primal chorus without refrain.

A man in a hurry to get home to nothing
Comes menacingly into my lane.
I swerve and still I can't quite hit him,
I am impaired by this migraine.

All the world wants to be first,
When all this rushing is in vain.
Seeing sparks instead of cars,
I drift through pulsing blood and rain.