in a silent way you took a wrench to your attitude
said it had a crick in its neck
so your wrist became god
to alter what you couldn't
without a tool you never used
on anything you couldn't kick
your breath it smelled like gasoline
your hands were black as coal
your hair was heavy
with the wet your work made
i need a shower you said
well i'll run you one
well you can't run one
a shower isn't a bath
well i'll run away instead
i'll borrow what i can't buy
and steal what i can't borrow
and sleep beneath a tarp
too far away to touch
and say look what the day made me
look what it did when it died
it's beautiful as sin
and ugly as the shape i'm in
what's it to you?
who go