You are the regret in my cigarette which makes mortality sweet

the rhythm of traffic lights dancing nights while my city sleeps

the step off a precipice when I'm in too deep

a plane crash our tickets in the trash

the waking echo of a dream

a whisper in the microphone in crowded rooms

a new appetite to keep me alive

a new limb to touch the world

a farther home which gives worth to the road...

and 9 am's collecting yesterday.