Sitting parked,
Looking in the rear view mirror I see a train,
Your high as ****,
Waiting to be safe and sober,
Hoping that I'm not too much of an idiot,
Listening to radio ****,
But I'm so high doesn't matter, any beat will do,
**** this streetlight suddenly flickers suddenly reflecting,
The cold rain on my damp paper,
It flickers again and the train whistle blows,
Making the pages yellow, sephia, mixed with rain,
Making the words ever so elegant,
Looking out my windshield,
~please flip to side B~
Seeing waves, combined with hard wind and rain,
Making the polluted, sedimentary Fraser River,
Appear like syrup,
A thick, slow, smooth, liquid,
When do I leave this place?
I watch the sky train go by,
Seeing foggy yellow windows illuminating the night,
Imagining myself as a passenger,
Just living life, going about my limited time,
Just doddling along...