Cocaine on credit cards, red eyes and empty hearts.
The struggle plays and I’m caught in the crossfire
I see police lights, I see it all and it’s dead to rights where my soul is tired, and I just watch, I just stand by.
The vibration of Saturday nights, all restless for bodies and lifelines.
“Drunk in love” and death-obsessed: All symptoms of readiness.
Headlights shine in the alley, high beams blinding behind the house.
A door swings open to violence standing right there in front of me.
Cocaine on credit cards, red eyes and empty hearts.
The struggle plays and I’m caught in the crossfire.
And as he pulls out the knife to the sound of the screams in the front yard, foam on his lips he moaned, “Let me in or let me go”.
I thought of what it might feel to die: Blood on dirt, on Eastern and Crittenden Drive, for nothing, for a fucking overdose on a Saturday night.