I’m sorry man I don’t got no money.
“Can you spare some change
for a cup of coffee?” I could
possibly. Although I got pains
and aches and a train to catch.
I’m not bitchin bout the cold
cause it’s my own fault I’m under-clothed.
And I’m sure nothing’s your fault neither.
No I don’t have a problem no more
with high pitched haunting machine sounds.
And I’m a little regretful about being so full,
cause none of it is nutritional.
Fried chicken and cheap lager.
I’m for sure restless in this empty street,
three minutes before the train leaves.
Sucking in carcinogens.
I’m underground and I was wrong
about the sounds now penetrating my skull.
Dive inside the metal coffin just in time.
Shaking in this unsure compartment,
this inanimate entrapment, enticing me
to free myself, but the end is not yet.