I can tell that the radio's playing
But all that I hear is white noise
I know that he's talking
I can see his lips moving
But his words go in one ear and out the other
Not coming anywhere near my mind
Which might as well be in another dimension
Not in this smoke filled room
With the heat and sweat of all these bodies
I feel his hands
Touching
Grabbing
Places I know my father wouldn't want him to go
I should tell him no
Stop
But I'm frozen in this white dimension
White walls
White floors, white ceiling
White noise