Condition Oakland
Thinking that they might sing to me.
But they just stared back.
Broken, trainless and black as night.
Climbed out onto my roof.
So I'd be a poet in the night.
Beat the walls off my room.
I saw the big room that is this life.
This is my condition:
Naked and hysterical,
Reaching to grab a hand
That I just slapped back at.
This is my condition:
Desperate, alone, without an excuse.
I try to explain.
Christ, what's the use?
Read and I felt so small.
Some words keep speaking when you close the book.
Drank and just about smiled.
Then I remembered us in that bed.
Put my ear to the door.
I just heard hot rods and gunshots and sirens.
People kill me these days.
There's keys in their eyes but they lock from the inside.
This is my condition:
Naked and hysterical,
Reaching to grab a hand
That I just slapped back at.
This is my condition:
Desperate, alone, without an excuse.
I try to explain.
Christ, what's the use?
Writer/s: Blake Schwarzenbach