I Rode Down To The Tracks.


Thinking They Might Sing To Me.


But They Just Stared Back.


Broken, Trainless And Black As Night.


Climbed Out Onto My Roof.


So I'd Be A Poet In The Night.


Beat The Walls Off My Room.


I Saw The Big Room That Is This Life.





This Is My Condition:


Naked And Hysterical,


Reaching To Grab A Hand


That I Just Slapped Back At.


This Is My Condition:


Desperate, Alone,


Without An Excuse.


I Try To Explain. Christ, What's The Use?





Read And I Felt So Small.


Some Words Keep Speaking


When You Close The Book.


Drank And Just About Smiled.


Then I Remembered Us In That Bed.


Put My Ear To The Door.


I Just Heard Hot Rods


And Gunshots And Sirens.


People Kill Me These Days.


There's Keys In Their Eyes


But They Lock From The Inside.