How's it like being an object?
Rundown, coruscating on the corner
of the Six
hear you spirited yourself into
the anonymous lines
the heavens on the streets
living in your car for months
quit your job when it broke down
How's it, how's it, how's it
the repetition of the daylight
burns you down, and I know
you got your friends
off in places people locked away
in houses don't know
the constellations
are hands holding out ones
but you take nothing at all
you being you
Pretty girl, thing with wings
but not an angel
I would walk with you
to hell but you're already
moving through it
meet you halfway
and the drinks would
be on me but you don't take
nothing and I am
on an island in the middle of an ocean
you in a city of monotony.
