fluffy white dogs and the lady's big banks high-rise sky scraping black cityscapes sitting on the couch as you make your exchange car ride after midnight, you sold a girl cocaine keyboard clicking and won't you come home? the old can of peaches is rusting alone don’t got a landline, money, or a phone nothing left to do but to wait here and hope don't have an opener, don't have a clue dull pencil sharpeners, imaginary food “check for understanding” school to pass the time waiting in the dark but i’m keeping on the lights bart station — you used to be so nice — worked a 5 to 9 they said that you'd always be the type... the type to what? to lie? to live a lonely life isolated from society and losing your mind? communicative (of your wants, not needs) knobby knees shake, anticipate, the needle lets you free fly away, leave here stranded with the thought that if you got what you wanted it wouldn't be me