Do I look like a Circle K,
a walking convenience store
for your craven desperate needs,
who can dial you up your alcohol
when the state laws say go away?
It has been quite an experience here in hell,
Where the party people all fall out the bars at 2 a.m.
and spill onto the road like antelope with helicopters chasing them
The cops, in their feeding frenzy pick them off, one by one, two by two.
They spin down the boulevard in whirls of ache, the need unsatisfied,
their numbness, slowing going awake. I roll one guy a cigarette
who promised to pay, smoked it and left and I let him go away.
Please go away. Please go, away! The new moon is in its new cycle
and the power of the haunting is getting bigger by the day,
I just went out for a bit of air, time to think, now I howling again
from your need to drink, and the hollow sound of your two-faced lie,
I watch you walk down the alley way, and I wonder why I even try.
Then there's this other guy who told me about a fight, likes Vodka over beer
because it gives him second sight. I tried to get a word in but the liquor
was his holy roll. He broke up a fight and I became his priest to a confession
I didn't even invite. Couldn't get a word in. Couldn't get it right:
So here's what I think of the demons of the night ...
