Sliding through the cracks
Screaming monkey on my back
Nowhere to go nothing to do
Sitting in a bucket of crying some blues
When a love is nothing just some fact
You pass that crossroad and you can't turn back
In the hutch a bottle of gin just a way to hide
Doesn't fix the problem just dulls the inside
Climbing out the well dripping from the dunk
I tire and rest a bit no breeze to blow the funk

I walk behind empty gas stations
And broken windows,
My palms sweaty from the heat,
I think of the polar caps
Slowly melting away.

I open the door to my apartment,
I sit down on my leather couch,
My hands are no longer sweaty
But, I am still sad.

Trouble
To be found.

Some days it's to be found
in your little Jean pocket.
Sometimes a friend drops in

I love the gentle way the gentle
Tells me I'm alright no miss-step

There is a place to hang your hat
It's better than 'Here's you hat
what's the hurry...;

But still. It's all there when you walk though, you rise you make do