I couldn't learn it from
the old days,
sending into hell
By 7 .30 I was reaching for the bottle of bells
I usually hit the wall
before I end up hitting the skids
Tonight I don't care,
I'm just drinking
with the Croxton Arcades
I'm walking over like a famous writer
out on the turfs
Keep moving forward
to the lights ahead
and see if that works
The sky is foaming into overcast
and I don't know why
The stairs are bursting,
it's stagnating and offending me
I'm kicking the cans around the streets,
I hesitate in the cold
If there's a sparkles in the picture
we left after the rain
I'm obfuscated by the sirens
and the garbage cannons
Amongst the fury and the drinking
with the craps to pockets
Every December I remember
all the months that I spent
Avoiding any slightly dangerous
and thrilling events
My neighbor told me not to leave
my window open at night
His shit was stolen from his bedroom
in plain view and plain sight
I find it funny that a man of
modern humor and faith
Can only chill beside the chisels
with the scars on their face
I'd sell my day job
to the person with the earliest bid
To spend the whole day
getting total with the prostit pockets
This coming week I'll leave on Friday
for my job in Japan
All in a pack of selling businessmen
cocaine in a can
All I can think about
is what I'm gonna miss when I'm gone
And where the Japanese finally
gonna grow a stick into Sean
And where the colors strike that guy
with that tattoo on his back
And where they stash the success
they used to shoot that kid in the neck
I'm really gonna miss
the fear of getting stuck in the woods
And disappearing while drinking
with the Crested Harkins
Yeah, the Crested Harkins
Oh, the Crested Harkins
Yeah, the Crested Harkins
Yeah, the Crested Harkins