I cannot dance
But I've danced
I cannot sing
But I sang
I cannot play
But I've played
I cannot write
But I wrote

Acolytes of yon ole Stanstead
Told him he's been mislead
Well tough, ya old curmudgeon
See ya never, has-been's has-been

Shepherds, cobblers, carpenters and joiners of all creeds and worldly dreamers
You troubled souls, the brittle spirits drinking spirits cleaner
Taunted workers of yore, farmers gone and industries endowed
Disseminating futures, who's gonna build your ***** barrels now?
**** it, I'm going to work in a call center

Turns out I've been New Yorker for a while
But I tend to other business and I doubt I'll path the mile
For you see the city where I'm from is dense with garbage piles
I figured it's big and confusing and it's yet to make me smile
I don't come from there or from its region or really from a place worthwhile
See, my place is vast and I don't get it, it changes fast and is hostile
And I just can't key into it, neither mainland, nor the isle
So I figured that a Prague boy has been a New Yorker for a while

A ghost of a house is a blueprint
A soul of a blueprint is a sketch
A sketch's spirit is in vision
And lemme tell you, your vision's quite a stretch

To ****** many men
One needs talent, wit and pen
To create beauty true and plain
One needs quite the same

This is all there is to me
Boredom, disappointment and debris
This is all I am about
Rudeness, deafness and bad snout
This is all I can provide
A few thousand grave warnings to mind
This I can assure you of
In a week you'll have enough

You chugged down a pint of stout
Reason running in and out
Your friends cheering you on
Until all reason is completely gone
   In a moment of uncertainty
   You poise the possibility
   Of ordering another pint of that hilarity
You get another one and a shot
You feel your head spins and you're hot
You're being cheered on by your friend-squad
Reason's leaving, but you're not
   The evening just began
   And you feel a certain urge to dance
   Then that concludes
   You get the pint again
   And the reason still eludes

I'm barely at home
There's my wooden furniture
These my plates of chrome
A fridge full of nourishment
My marble dome
But I'm barely at home

I've barely a hearth
This a room of my choosing
That there my land on earth
My book shelf for musing
Amenities for mirth
But barely a hearth

So I shall no longer defend
New kinds of love that you invent
Ever-changing list of demands
Keeps contradicting its own commands
After the sin quick to repent
With brief engagements in descent
Straighten all that you have bent
Amend what you're yet to amend
Letting those you left all depend
On your attention already spent
At each new encounter decadent
Your passion wasted on random men
Though fell, kept grace, that's evident
For what it's worth your growth is imminent