Her son, her son and her
Problems
I am on a waltz with a womanly form
A night of celebrations...only two
One-unders in a thirty-year-plus career
Can you search your memory for those odd nights
When you are alone?
Enjoy and be damned, or just be damned
Awards for pulsars, worn guitar straps and seventeen
Films so far this month
What do I care?
Bury my heart in the Campo Vacchino and let
The concrete blend with the blood
Let the ram-raiders target the Mexican
Shopkeepers, they make off with cigarettes, cigars
And ornamental plates
I am barred from a fave place, not for the
First time, I am ejected from a party
Before it has even started...give me bee venom, a gun and
Please include the instructions
Please
Please
Listen to the sounds of the bypass, but don't blame me
For I am in a place where people are rich or pretend to be
Here I can share my dreams
I cannot do likewise where people are blatantly poor
So do not blame me for my four nights spent in Bra
P.S.
Treat the workers like shit and
They will produce shit work