Linndale '85. Broken bottles on the floor.
Some sad, dark man at the unopened door.
Cold air comes through the cracks in the windows;
15 below in the house when the wind blows.
Haven't made rent in a month, maybe two.
Got scum in the drains and dead birds in the flue.
Some scumbag swings by four times a week
Selling bathtub crank that he scored on the street.
Gonna get clean,
Gonna get these devils all out,
Gonna leave this hell,
Gonna get back down south.
Goddamn this city
So goddamn these people.
Goddamn this weather.
And goddamn these broken down hands of mine
