Thursday, December 6, 2007

Squatter Song (I Came Here to Die)

I've got a dead mattress
thrown on the floor
where I pass out every night.
And the polyurethane
that coats the floor
reflects the light from the street.

There's never been a fire
in the fireplace
ever since they came and sealed it up,
and every time I open the door
I've got to give it a kick
'cause it gets stuck.

I hear the thudding pitter-patter
of the kid upstairs;
I've never seen him, but he wakes me up.
And that's the funny thing
about the cross I bear:
I only need it to get me going.

And it's quiet, sometimes
quiet when I'm singing
in the shower all alone;
it's not my home,
but it's a place to rest my head.
I'm never home,
I'm told I'll rest when I am dead

(Sing to me, Jeff Tweedy,
am I listening to you?
Is this how I fight loneliness,
by running somewhere new?
I'm sorry that I'm leaving
but it's something I must do)

July '06

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