Here's to the wounded ones
That the world moves too quickly to heal,
Who wait in line for the liquor store to open
Or break bottles on the concrete
Because the screaming's never loud enough,
Who travel the ring of hotels like feeder suburbs
To the pure rolling hills of sleeping sacks
And backpacks near and ready
Trying to be still.
There's nothing in this for them but pain
And the ways they can widen the sensation
To make it not hurt.
Human debris roll like logo-wrappered tumbleweed
As if they've never been sampled at all
Just moved from rejection to rejection
To a home where their plans don't have to make sense
And the geese in the pond forgive them
And the bars on the men's room aren't locked.
O love that drops from the sky
That I can be unworthy of the ones
Who've fallen so completely.
What a waste my life has been.
