Your dead things are locked up inside.
Blow smoke rings straight back in time,
like roses floating out with the tide.
Dance and sing under gunfire;
open wings slowly take flight...
Around these parts a fly can live--
A fly can live a thousand years;
but a man cannot die soon enough, true enough.
A smiling drunk nursing a glass of milk.
A girl with a face like prison bread.
Over the kitchen noise I hear them howl at me.
A scabby ketchup bottle and a two-dollar bill.
I guess its time to pay the bill, but you know I never will.
I'm hungry still...
Mercy killing on the way.
Never thought I'd hear you say--
Falling to your knees and praying now...
In this crowded place I could swing a cat and not even hit a soul...
It's just the lonely vacuum of human black holes.
And I'm as dry as these thirsty trees, with big city thoughts
in the dirty breeze...promising to set me free.
"Waiter, check please..."
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