I heard it happened at Third and Franklin
It’s not the kind of place you would want to be seen
The steam that escapes from the manhole covers makes this place
Look like it’s gonna blow
(more)
An old man passes me on the street he says, “We are god’s reality show”
The dogs move down Venetian Road as the hookers howl at the moon
Like a Tom Waits song
All the rooms smell like stale water and too much perfume
I’m lost in the window and I’m lost in my thoughts
We breed dream-like delusions beneath the covers
This all started off in the wrong direction
The hobos are listening for the 8:15 out of this place
This is the rhythm of the night; it’s not what we pictured
The sky’s held together by Chimeras’ might,
Golden eyes and sharpened teeth
This night just sweats and moans; the sirens scream obscenities
The woman in the diner was a looker in her day, but
The drugs got her and
The alcohol got her, but
No one got her
She just slipped away, floated to the end of the line
God’s island of the misused
Abused
Thrown away, castrated blues
Beneath
This harvest moon
It all
Shines with a broken edge
Dreams
Ripped and shattered on the ground
I feel it leave me as the train rolls on down the line
And the city slowly disappears from the hazy-yellow window
(less)
