I am fleeting, fleeing
With the dogs in my pack
And I don’t care
About the holes in my pockets
Your coins slip through
It sounds just like, a school bell
And my clothes they smell
Just like a smoky dark room

Your feet are cut, poached
Slung on lines on my back
And I don’t feel
Any carpet in your foyer
You bend your legs
It feels just like, a dead fin
And my breath it feeds
Just like a starved harlequin

And I am fleeing, fleeting
Without those rabid dogs
I stained my bed
And it looked just like me
it looked just like me