carving a few simple words into her memory
a whisper of hair drifts over her face
eyes shut she waits for the cold crisp dawn
the candle distracts
and weaves it own tale
soft with smoke and mystery

night disburses
and the redhead across the hall comes tapping
naked and sweating
looking to cop a fresh spike
my girl makes her wait in the hall
"rude" she whispers over and over

our days here are fleeting
soon to escape this motel
and its rodent festival
to the great sunshine
never snows

quiet destitution creeps in with breakfast
and lay in the corner with a soft sigh
down in my mind i want to sleep
but its nearly time to wait
for the mexicans at quality hill
with two $20's in my claw

I am not yet ready to write the words
that would seal our fate and close this painfull day
that poem is within me
it drives me out into the bright sunlight
and the redhead follows trying to make nice
and i know its dope game logic that drives her
i know i could get my girl to bed her
a ******* would be tasty

umm that thought keeps me warm
while waiting on the mexicans