Gary

Loss carries uncertainty, when you feel this way, until payday comes ‘round again, then I sink don’t phone, it’s my form of grace, songs of a dismal tone, fashion my trade, handled without sway, a good boy these days, walk a city of stones, down avenues of tearaways, I need better clothes, shades of the infirmary, my bones in a cradle, lonely trains, whistle and moan, laughter makes me fit again, lovers gone on 'planes, or down the Freeway, once a snappy soul, reclaimed from the cafes, I listen to their jokes, tell myself I’m OK.