head Fulla high life…
the wife texts me…
am I on the way home?
sure I am but this poor crazy woman is screaming at the top of her lungs in broadway…
NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!
as they try to cram her onto a gurney…
into an ambulance…
the city, she still ain't all that safe at night.
make no mistake, oklasota…
I'm tawkin to you wiscotucky…
the city may be candyland to you…
but I remember a time when it wasn't so nice…
and sometimes I get to see it.
on the 2 train I sit across a crumbling beauty…
she's using…
clearly she is…
I wonder if her parents know where she is…
what she's doing…
who she's doing it with…
and whether or not her parents will need to take that call in the middle of the night…
you know the one.
hello mister and missus…
we need you to come down here to identify the body…
yeah.
my city is beautiful city…
but she is flawed…
whoop…
the doors are closing on the 7…
I'll be home in 10 minutes…
things to do…
lunch to make…
sleep to get.
—the bastard
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