i know i'll be on the road again soon
with no where to go
just following the old gasoline trail
and pushing key cards at motels
laying on my back in a white bathtub
somewhere in some city i've never heard of
masturbating over some girl i've never even kissed
i share a bed with the living
and share a toothbrush with the dying
nothing new
nothing pretty
and shoe-shines with gimmicks that leave you dead
and cold
crane machines full of dead stuffed animals
and girl cashiers that would spit in your face
had they any life left in them
the dead of a nation wrapped in cellophane
and crucified on billboards for merry men to decipher.
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