come up for air
split thirst, rotten world
watch you brush your hair -
gravel in your shoes.
uncomfortable, inexplicable
but that's not an excuse
not a fashionable truth

and you set a scene
a culture of defeat
press us against a city bus
staggeringly drunk
still managing to stand up
to pink slips and policemen
imperfects and injustices
real or imagined

but it's not enough to have been
a part of what might have happened
divorce diplomas and frame our dust
watch our trivial, little hope overrun with rust
it hurts to be honest but the world is still rotten
and there's nothing in it for us.

(but i guess it's nice
sometimes - i guess i like
to know you're there
to watch you brush your hair)