Sometimes it's easier to walk away from the scene of the crime.
It's hard to admit everything you've ever thought has been stupid and wrong.
Sometimes if you look at the words on a page of a book, you can see faces staring back at you.
It seems like we're always looking for meaning in the wrong places.
Sometimes I want to remember what it felt like to want to change.
You look at me differently these days, when we're alone.
Sometimes I pretend I didn't hear what you said when I know what you said.
It's hard to live up to how you see yourself in your head.
there was a small jazz bar in chicago. there was a bull dyke that you thought was a man. there was a kindergartener singing motley crue. there was a priest dressed in drag. there was a piece of string tied to your swollen finger. over here there were three little girls screaming for your attention. sometimes there was a flash of light so bright you could see the entire world and there were no shadows. there was an accident. there were questions that even the smart kid in class couldn't begin to answer. there was someone selling candy to children while their parents made out in the backseat. now and again there was an old man watching from the window, rocking back and forth, back and forth. there was music. pop music. there were teenagers talking about it. there were blacks. there were jews. there were little punk girls with bad attitudes. there was a snowball melting in the sun. there was a fat kid. there was a nerd. sometimes there were flowers waiting to be fucked by bees. there was a pot head. there were uglies. there was a woman complaining about her hamburger (it was too cold). i think there was a note being passed around from table to table, but i can't be sure. there was a television that only played foxnews. there was a smiling boy holding a trophy for selling the most raffle tickets in the school raffle ticket selling contest. there were proud parents with bumper stickers explaining their pride. there was a loaded gun with so much potential energy it could hardly contain itself. there was a spiral that never ended. there was an old man calculating pi. there asian kids applying to harvard. there was an explosion that no one heard but me and you. there was a smile that no one saw but me and you. there were modern socks. there was a noose. there was a man with braces. i was wondering whether or not i was going to die in a car, or in a hospital bed, or on a sidewalk, or in a forest alone, or smiling, or with fear in my eyes. i couldn't tell what you were wondering, but it was something good.
I can't cum when you look at me like that. It's like you're waiting for something amazing to happen / and I'm waiting, too. Waiting for the signal. Waiting to know something amazing has happened.
Your alarm clock says it's 1:23 a/m. I ask you where does time go when it dies, do you think, and you look at me like you're still waiting for something amazing. And it never comes.
You take the skyway, high above the busy little one-way. In my stupid hat and gloves, at night I lie awake Wondering if I'll sleep, Wondering if we'll meet out in the street. But you take the skyway. It doesn't move at all like a subway. It's got bums when it's cold like any other place. It's warm up inside. Sitting down and waiting for a ride beneath the skyway. Oh, then one day, I saw you walkinh down that little one-way, the place I'd catch my ride most everyday. There wasn't a damn thing I could do or say up in the skyway.
I'll try to find you left of the dial.
There are railroad tracks behind my apartment, right outside my window. They scream at me loud, and I can see the tracks from where I'm sitting, and I wonder if anyone has ever ended it all, right here outside my window.
And do these ghosts haunt those tracks at night, right here outside my window?