CITY WAYS (The Sad Crowd)

Considering all the time
I wandered ‘round this town of cards,
you’d think I’d not quite feel so alien.
But here I am all thick-skin grey,
slick dark eyes just staring away.
Nothing to drink, nothing to say,
but I slither in my leather through the sad crowd anyway.

Try my best to remember their names.
Just play along with their old guard games.
Meet Joe and Laurie and Angie and Ben.
Repeat the same boring story again and again and again and a…
You know the one where I find myself -
lost in the urban maze -
Tossed to the rocks in my black flack-jacket
and my big city ways.

Home coming -
Ain’t I the fortunate one.
Rome’s humming
with the promise of the prodigal son.
Still I’m just a jack
trying to make my money stack;
Pack my guitar in a gunnysack,
‘til I’m on my way, I ain’t coming back.

I could wax poetic about what gets me high -
Gazing up at tiled reflections of sky.
I could try to define what it means to me -
This evolution through population density.
But behind the façade of an alien thing
burns the ember of a future king.
I keep it under cap - my secret thunderclap -
and I’m wondering why the hell I put up with this, up with this shit. . .

Home coming -
Ain’t I the fortunate one.
Rome’s humming
with the promise of the prodigal son.
Still I’m just a jack
trying to make my money stack;
Pack my guitar in a gunnysack,
‘til I’m on my way, I ain’t coming back.