Filed down coffins in the neighborhood. A Spanish girl walking by the cemetery wood.

Five in the pan, we do what we can though it ain’t right.

A fat man sitting on the side of his remote, his daughter’s in the kitchen trying to clean his coat,

I bet she can’t.

The rattle of a bottle on a warped wooden desk, shaking back and forth beside my bated breath.

A blind girl laughing while I stare at her chest, I’m in the zone.

I won’t survive if I make it out alive.

Seven/ten split, I don’t got…



Down on Main Street, I got friends waiting there.

I don’t need no drop off girls.

I like the air.



Elysian Park through the dark about a mile.

A little white girl with a Bobby King smile.

Blue little bags she says she knows I’m feeling bad I’m worth your while.

But here ‘tween the palette feelings I don’t understand, cardboard cutouts, just be a man.

Have fun walking home in Mike Davis land.

Pull the wool over my eyes.

I don’t want to understand.

I like the trees, the army and the colors that they wear, they like to scare.

A few blocks home from remembering my name, a few blocks home.



Down on Main Street, I got friends waiting there.

I don’t need no drop off girls, I like the air.