#1
The Monster of Shearer's View


Singing with the elocution of a broken jaw
And glass pipes shattered into cutting bits
Melodies escape from a gaping maw
And the band cobbles together notes to fit

This is no fairytale view of New York
Magnificent chandeliers and inviting bars
Here, mothers tell no tales of storks
Just "Look both ways or get hit by cars"

You brick-walled yourself with cockroaches
And stolen spoons and lighters to fix
Yourself as a specter no one approaches
Talking to no one and picking at nits

Still the drunks sing out weekends
Their inhibitions thus weakened
But they're scared when they see you
The monster of Shearer's View

The pub band keeps playing all the old songs
For those who wallow only in memories
In a present too bleak to think to carry on
Dissolving into their cacophonous harmonies

Still they stagger in fright when you come by
Track marks and false starts and IOU's
While you spout cold truths off high and glass-eyed
They're all playing through hastily-made ruses

Each time I see you to check if you've eaten
And not overdosed like each visit I fear
You look like the whole of society has beaten
You half to death with Longinus' spear

Still the drunks sing out weekends
Their inhibitions thus weakened
But they're scared when they see you
The monster of Shearer's View

Under the archway, you hold up the wall
Back twisted from the aches and the shakes
Domestic abuse rings out down the hall
As the crowd filters out like guests at a wake

They shudder to see you - "damn gutter freak"
And slowly shift themselves back into verse
But leave coins and bills in pity at your feet
Maybe you'd save them if you had a purse

But it's not yet last call; dealer's waiting
The bartender busies himself around the back
He knows the illicit substance trading
But a conscience is something he lacks

Still the drunks sing out weekends
Their inhibitions thus weakened
But they're scared when they see you
The monster of Shearer's View
I am a fake mountain.