I am restlessly pulling at my last beer
And I blame it on the other drugs.
So I’m playing a poor, young
white man’s tug of war
Between his vices.
And sleep is sitting court side
Without a voice, palm to face
And losing any bet she’d put her money on.
I’d place my hand on her shoulder, if I could
“Better luck next time, my dear.”
But there’s no truth in consoling,
When you’re happy with a loss.
And there’s no waking with a grin,
When you’ve ruined it all
By letting all of your bad parts in.
Jesus is a candle that sits on my book shelf.
I bought him for a dollar.
I’m not sure he would approve
After all, the dude’s been known to lose his shit in
I’d forgive him for it, though
These are the things you learn
From a wick
And some wax.
There’s an angel asleep in bed
And she clutches your hand to her breast,
Like it might be the last one
she wants to feel before she drifts away
Outside of the bathroom window the birds are chirping
Talking a call and response
A cigarette’s smoke dancing in and out of the screen
And one more beer won’t hurt(?)
As the traffic plays the softer sounds
To the trains that drag on
hard in this new
Three small hours to sleep and you find it hard to keep
Though you’re happier than you’ve found
In three long years
Let this be routine!
I’ve got to get all of my racing thoughts out
Before she finds that I’ve been gone
Before I slide myself between the sheets,
And place my body perfectly aligned, yet
Subtle, for her oh so needed sleep.
Wheels and wings are the same
Rushing things in this new
I will wake for you;
I forgive my sleep
But I will wake for only you.