From my three-story apartment window I hear the 2am bar fights,
The sirens of the city race by...
I hear the breaking glass from another wandering soul
and the couples that hate each other then make love in the dark alley below me...
I feel the breeze blended with artists dreams pass by,
I lay in this Cal. king drowning in pillows,
Staring at these 1930 off-white walls that have been molested by so many forgotten visitors,
I lay here and I know why I lay alone...
I'm so consumed by the life outside my window that I do not notice when a life walks out my door.
You call it *****, I call it home.