its only the alleyways blowing out its smoke
and that sense of cold broadens
what comes out of it but darkness
why this fall so gloomy in the crack of my door
looking at it every repeating night
and top priorities are routine cynics
going with clockwork for their bitter pill in the day
watching the foundations turn into cheap mimics
and the ones with the benifits fill thier pockets
as the rest of the world sip on a pint of gin
a everlasting moment in meloncholy
and what for? to torture you for nothing?
wondering like harbor rats by the shoreline
being talkative only in begging tongue
and the usual spit for pleasure
and walk their way out of guilt
down to the highrises to their big corporate offices
to sip on that glass of tea
the disgruntled secretary slips it on the desk
during his talk with the higher associates
to take down another streetcorner
but it can be risen above
and the days can be memories
like being stuck inside a second
and you're not on the jetplane astray
when without next suggestion
the next ride should be taken
cause it is for you
time for the medication
Mike McVeigh
9-12-01