When I wake up,
I'll be alone with an old phone number.
No unbroken bones, no healthy lungs, no.
When the radiator howls
Like a thousand homeless mutts
And I'm wondering if I'll get through the week on twenty bucks
And I think nothing's wrong.
I couldn't find you,
Making your way down to the sea
January, mid-month, with the brightest of teeth
When I wake up,
To a siren six stories below
The dry-cleaner's number on an old, stained, yellow sticky note.
And we've all got no place to go
There's a light in the basement
And the devil waits for you at home
And you don't wanna face him