Edge of Town
November 30 1982
There is someone I know
That walks around the edge of this town.
Crying to all:
You are all going to die.
The room I rented long ago with the heavy-duty shaggy carpet
And the unbearable heat coming from the Chinese kitchen down below
Is still there... the lights are on.
I live inside this dream I call my own.
I pay no rent.
I walk alone.
My siren swells under the sheets and arches her back,
Then she goes to the window and from the distance of an embrace,
She calls me to her.
Down on my knees I go.
It is so hard to be strong.
Beauty is really all I care for. I put some music on.
I don’t care about all the ones that have come before.
They are better off on their own.
I look for something to get my brain out of this thunderstorm.
I only got beer in my working class kitchen painted pastel.
My siren is still holding on to the window ledge, I think I will bite her some more.