by Liam Rector

    Dressed in an old coat I lumber

    Down a street in the East Village， time itself

    Whistling up my ass and looking to punish me

    For all the undone business I have walked away from，

    And I think I might have stayed

    In that last tower by the ocean，

    The one I built with my hands and furnished

    Using funds which came to me at nightfall，in a windfall……

    Just ahead of me， under the telephone wires

    On this long lane of troubles， I notice a gathering

    Of viciously insane criminals I'll have to pass

    Getting to the end of this long block in eternity.

    There's nothing between us. Good

    I look so dangerous in this coat.