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Mar 2015
Knockin’ on doors at 3am
The old woman’s gunna call the cops on him
Trek through the cold to knock some more
Everything’s asleep except the dogs in them
Clean out of cigarettes and the phone is dead
And the tears and the snot is frozen to the skin
Could you tell me how the hell I got here again?

Knock, knock, knockin at 4am
Taking rests in stairwells for a break from the wind
Hit the hard ground to the corner store
Four cards down and still two dollars short
The look alone asks the old timer, be a sport
Fresh pack of smokes and I’m out the door
20 new friends to help me knock some more

No more knockin’ at 5am
My knuckles are too sore to knock again
Lookin’ like a crack addict shakin’ on the street
Boots cold, coat cold, cigarette in my teeth
Cars won’t stop but they’ll take real long looks
See there Martha, they’re all junkies and crooks
Could you tell me how the hell I got here again?

Walk, walk, walkin’, jukebox past 6
Talkin’ to myself to be sure I still exist
Made it to the old house, the last resort left
Ringing that bell, hoping for the best
Pops comes down and opens the door
Gotta thank the old man, don’t gotta knock no more
Fell asleep on the kitchen tile floor

(c) 2015
Rafael Alfonzo
Written by
Rafael Alfonzo  Augusta
(Augusta)   
498
 
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