It’s thirty below and I’m lighting another cigarette
I’ve been stuck inside this apartment
And taking my head off my shoulders.
As my cigarettes dwindle
And the bottle in my trash can holds less smoke,
I lay naked on the bathroom floor.
A body bound heavily to earth
And a mind that is nowhere near it.
If I had a partner,
This scene could be pretty.
I don’t know, lately I see beauty in black in white.
My eyes aren’t set to projection screens
So no one will see this with me.
Two are incents burning in the sink
But I can only smell this room.
My life I find to be artistic
Although others would rush in to help.
Is a man more dangerous in the street or on the edge?
I guess it depends if he’s on the high way or a bridge.
Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this room,
Sometimes it depends.
As I ash another cigarette out,
Another one begins.