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My car broke down in Arizona, have to |
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ride the bus again, at ten-o-clock on |
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Tuesday night, with thirteen cents and a |
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broken pen. I put my backpack on the |
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bench, tell two people I don't smoke, |
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see the cop across the street, he thinks |
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that I am selling dope, I could have |
|
walked another block, to get away from |
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the scene. Why does it always come to |
|
this, where zero meets fifteen? |
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And so I gave my thirteen cents, to the |
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man who peed his pants. He passes out |
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and falls on me, I watch my change fall |
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from his hand. I see the lady next to |
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me, holds her baby black blue. |
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The junkie gutter-punks keeps asking, |
|
where I got my new tattoo. What does |
|
it matter anyway, thirteen cents or all I |
|
own? How can I ever save the world, |
|
on cup-o-soup and student loans? |
|
I want to try and save the world, but it |
|
never goes that way. |
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God I don't know what to do, down at |
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Colfax and Broadway. |
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Now the man with no shoes on, says I |
|
don't know how to play. He says I |
|
fumble all the time. He thinks that I am |
|
John Elway. I put my face down in my |
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hands, water wells inside my eyes. |
|
What do I have to give them? Does it |
|
matter if I try? I can't stand to see you |
|
suffer, I try to intellectualize, a formula |
|
to end you pain, it doesn't work, God |
|
knows I've tried. |
|
Sometimes my cup is overfilled. |
|
Sometimes I'm too afraid that I'm going to spill. |
