Modus Operandi

It's as if I'm stuck somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow, in someone else's car, in the back seat - where the heat is forty degrees, my thoughts are like sticky syrup, and my memory catches errors in high resolution. Everything seems a little blurry, as if through glass with droplets on it - and in this fog, you want at least a grain of understanding. Or simply - not to repeat what has already been played out a hundred times. A very quiet track about inner noise.