you were swaying on your feet, trying to light a smoke waiting on a bus, you got nowhere to go you were sleeping in the park in a dirty sweatpants suit the cops woke you up, now you gotta move
walking around wearing a motorcycle helmet up and down the same streets you walked yesterday wild irish rose can make a mean world almost decent it's an illusion handcuffs quickly take away there ain't enough room in this city for a guy who wants to drink himself to sleep under the stars there will always be some shit bag to remind you right where you are, right where you are. _______________
I got two dollars and fifty-one cents eighteen matches, a lighter, two pens and a beat up copy of Cannery Row five hundred miles left to go (x2)
everywhere I go I'm looking down watching my old tennis shoes as they're wearing out walking off these homesick blues I may be drunk and lost but I'm not confused and I know where this train is slowly going north through K-Falls then on to Portland I know I'm fucked up, it's stupid hoping you'll answer phone calls, goodbye to Oakland