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Music by Tom Waits
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A poem I wrote:
Another shit poem from shit city.
Contemplating the lights of San Francisco in theoretical jolts
hoping for the the accumulation of funds to one day say
"hey man I'm happy cos look what I got!"
Losing it in plastics and tasteless consumption.
I question whether or not I'm trampling about in Ginsburgh's bald head
all the while, they blame it on the poor for the consequences of the rich and powerful.
The bald eagles.
So let's Howl at the night in the solitude of our rooms.
Hoping that maybe we'll hear each other in the lonesome cold, beyond the distance.
Cos, honey, I've already lost the house, the car, the picket fence, the grass grown at Home Depot that i'll be damned to let anyone step on!, and all I need is that embrace.
The touch that turns crimsoned eyed demons into howlin' slobberin' puppy dogs.
AND JUST FOR FUN:
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