nursing a typhus in me nerves, kids, i got elastic bones, jumper cables in my blood stream. what can i say - i'm tired, been jogging my chest, trying to dodge the cracks above my heart, tiny holes carved by your departure. goin round and round, round and round.
i think, pavement is memory, this concrete's got grey matter, how its cracks are wrinkles, how every street corner must cry when people part on them. this street misses you when you're gone, it sings your name, through every electrical current beneath this city.