Rotten Windows

from Tiny Pastures by Boston Cream Party

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lyrics

The kitchen sink is literally the only friend I've got back home.
I sit and think slowly about it but the distance in me grows.

I know I've got to get back to the state where I was born,
got to get back before the frail earth perishes in a storm.

She's waiting for me, the patchwork, scarecrow girl.
I doubt she keeps me in her diary, but she says I figure brightly in her world.

The fear of being run off the road by a rhino city bus
keeps me from hustling the streets, sticking my neck out on the cusp

of a safe future, and paying everywhere we go.
There's no time out from the bus lanes amongst there and to and fro.

I'm most afraid of dying on the days when I am frail,
and I've been afraid most everyday since my legs began to fail.

My teeth are broken down from chewing shame,
my neck is stiff from staring out that rotten window frame.

I've been pawing from recognition now for almost seven years,
questions and effort fall short of finding me peers.

I'm set now on living and adopting a shelter dog,
settling with guts and bronze and pinching my nose up in the fog.