I have crossed this road before
for many years I'm sure
don't recognize the faces though
that pass me by
I've been off and on my way again
passed marsh road atherton
black mountain way and bored
stale houses on the yellowed plains
I'm going off again and
for no good reason
year by year I've achieved some type of feeling that
suggests I've traveled miles that lead to nowhere fast
I've seen the lot of them
from queens to journeyman
bigots and confidantes
I've spoken to and laughed with
destructive catalysts
professionals and loyalists
punk rock pop nihilists
have grown up amongst suburban architects
who can say that it was all deceiving
or that anybody was mislead?
I'm not the one to be judging
I may not even be who I think I am
The asphalt is my burning bed
has left me invalid
puts me to sleep at night
in the arms of some strange no mans land
I'll be back northbound and west
I need the fucking rest
but in the meantime
these broken roads and homes will ring in my head