35
And my buddy Vince was telling me
About this handjob he got from a girl
It was predawn
And they were both drunk
And in a car or something
And she was trying to jerk him off
But the birds were chirping
And he was distracted
Cause the chirping birds
Made him think of work
And life and what the hell
It all means
That this girl’s hand
On his halfhearted cock
Seemed the opposite of life
More like the reaper’s scythe
And he couldn’t finish
So the walk home was sad
But routine
Nowadays it seems we’re all
A little severed from the thing
That can make us whole
Can push us to completion
And as I smoked a cigarette
And the moon did its usual
Song and dance, I saw myself
Dragging an empty bathtub
1,000 miles through a desert
Of human hands
Were making fists
Without explanation
Were grabbing my ankles
Cause they were lonely
And wanted me to stay
You can tell a lot about a person
By looking at their severed hands
Cut off from emotion
The future is moving
Backwards in time
Like a door (Cont.)
That gets slammed in your face
All that’s left are the bruises