Get up rub my eyes blink away sleepy take a shower half asleep take the bus
people reek they lie they sneeze they read they walk they trip they shiver
get out of that godforsaken cesspit into prison walls all warm and nice
bright lights scrutiny furrowed eyebrows warm and nice scratches
of pencils talks with people about everything and nothing at all
get packed into the hellhole nearly unconscious nearly insane
pass out on my mattress eat drink read fight eat pass out
music mysteries literature love suffering insanity
running away from this torrential cyclone
but it seems to me that wherever i go
(scratching pencils frowning faces)
wherever I run or nap or hide
the road inexplicably
inevitably leads
to one thing:
you
.
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