The fool headed out with his heart
Checked over his shoulder for time
He wore a cigarette apart
And witnessed a rhyme
Quickened steps on New York streets
Greetings with a shaky hand
He says, “I fancy myself a deadbeat,
Nobody understands"

The fool played for his life in a bar
Stuttered every line with tension
He was everybody’s car
He worked for the pension
A mind of a kinetic brand
An isolationist caress
What's ****** into his hands
May put him among the rest

He’d be a shell to sell what is on his mind
But it’d be so bold if he sold his thoughts and time
Are the crows encumbered on his twitching tail?
Or were you so cruel to hang them up in hail?

He quickly made a tune for a boon
A derelict with a short fuse
The vain throw pity at the loons,
Who are their muse
Looking for a piece of a mind
Anything but his own
Travels in time, just to find
He can dine on the throne alone

The foil flailing on the wall
Fooling him to wail and write
Then the train of a mind stalls
Into the ceaseless night
“Write me well and write me to love”
The papers on the bookshelf say
Won’t you push them when they come to shove,
And seize that day?

You’d be a shell to sell to sell what is on your mind
But you’d be so bold if you sold your thoughts and time
Are the crows encumbered on your twitching tail?
Did the gabardines’ golden boy finally fail?

You desperately wanted to be sought
Yet you did not want to hang off the peak with a knot
Maybe you will try to linger on
And scream in streets when every chance is gone