The Good Times Used to Kill Me

In the long hot summer nights and the cold dark winter days

In the clear hours of the early morning and in the late night drunken haze

I keep on seeing things in the corner of my eye

Like this guy in an old baggy t shirt

Smiling like he grasped something that is hidden to the rest of us

The way he will stand completely still while people just walk on by

Girl on a bike probably on her way home

Girl in a car talking on her phone

Phone girl does not see bike girl and hits her

Bike girl makes a sickening sound as she hits the street

People scream

I am on my way home

Sad man standing slack jawed in line for a potato

Sifting thru his pockets coming up old bus tickets and grocery store receipts

Droopy eyes and baggy black jeans

It's his first time in

Oslo pretty boy on one of those cruiser bikes

Keeps checking his bedhead hairdo in the storefront windows while he chats to a beautiful girl

Something about wine and

Portugal

Wild man blocking the way of a businessman

Doing a spasmodic dance and screams

Take a dump in my head

Take a dump in my head

Take a dump in my head

We all come home to empty beds

Doesn't matter if anybody s there or not

We all come home to chock full heads doesn't matter what you do or what you got we all come home to the silent voice that keeps on talking

And we try to cancel it out

But it keeps on going like a drone

The good times used to kill me

Now

I am good at killing time