Small Stones: Extended Remixes #13

Some of the originals are just fine as they are. This is one of them. So I'll just repeat it here rather than trying to rewrite it.

After the eye-drops

On the way home from the hospital
Traffic lights become technicolour suns;
Shop names dissolve into alien languages;
Faces melt into indistinguishable blurs;
The numbers vanish from my watch;
The lines vanish from my hands;
And the whole world becomes a bad photograph.