November Sky

Often @ my job I’m staring at a pale white wall…  they call this profession “waiter” and most staffers talk in a foreign language or play on their smart phones. I think about poetry, music, & how I am slowly dying. This is the sacrifice I chose to make for deep pleasures.

Train keeps coming

Coming down the track

Gonna take me home

Gonna take me home

Now its my turn turn

To work, work, work

Working for no money

For my honeys all alone

How does it feel ?

When you’re always all alone

Missed the last train

And no one’s coming back

Train keeps coming

Coming down the track

Gonna take me home

Gonna take me home

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