The beat up pavement's slick from the rain
Deeply reflecting red gold street lights
There he is king of the things to come
He walks along the city walls at night
Through the valley, loss for losses sake
Past the painted princes of industry
He breathes so deeply he needs to sigh
He wanders and wonders "who misses me?"
If God is goodness: goodness gracious
Hearts are closing skulls are cracking
The walls are gone now, only night lives
And his visions are slowly blacking
Lying on a grate starting to dream
He dreams memories of Mother's voice
Before the fallout, he's not welcome
He dreams memories of Mother's choice
Under the bridge
He can't see the sky
Over the turnpike
He gets rain in his eyes
In an office
He's an unhappy guy
On the streets
He makes children cry
Time is closing in on the rest of time
Sleeping is his life now more than being awake
There's an aura of sour milk smell
And he rambles for rambling's sake
A sweaty body under his clothes
A hazy heatstroke brings visions forth
An acid stomach churns in his mouth
A lazy vagrant sees the night's swarth
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