It is 1977, everyone is wearing the stone washed 501's
I haven't felt this way about America for months
Listening to Bowie with the smile on my face
Studying math and history at my own slow pace
The baby is crawling around the floor...
Weeing and cooing at certain moving objects
While the cat is being pet and being fed Chex
However that works, no idea...
He's an unusual cat, I must add...
Because when he got a bird, and it bled onto my plaids
I did not know whether to become enraged or plain sad
I breathe in and out
And stare out the window to stare at the clouds
Berlin looks so nice from here
I spent the whole night smoking Marlboro Lights and drinking my beer
Seeing soccer on my tele, all I can do is cheer
All my bad thoughts and horrible feelings suddenly disappear
Sally is saying she is turning her back on religion
And goes outside to feed the pigeons
She introduced me to ****** on Wednesday
And I shot up all through Thursday
Then Lenny got a job back in May
And because of my drinking problems, my wife decided not to stay
I went to court and now I have custody
My children will never be taken away...

[Note: I wrote this poem hours before listening to Berlin by Lou Reed, which has been called the most depressing album ever, they were right, but it can lose it's effect if you listen to it repeatedly...This poem is inspired by the album and it's elements and themes...]

They dance around the old wooden barn
While they chase the cats with a spool of white yarn
They ask me to read them this children's novel
About a young male, about your age, who was just like you
He tied his shoes like you
You probably never had clue
The fact is, you never thought of this
It was just a skeleton in your old dusty closet
Which you kept behind with the unbreakable locket
For whatever reason, you have never given me none
So you preach your words of sadism as if it is for fun
But you avoid the illusion that he was just like you
He had eyes like you
He even spoke in a clear and loud voice...just like you.
Like you...
But the children want another story and they are tired of my *******
They'd rather **** and do drugs and simply deny it
I cry sometimes for them, those poor *******
So why can't I ask her?
Because she's just like you...
Needs that are unadjusted, like you
Because I like you...
you, you, you.