Somewhere At the Bottom of the River Between l'enfant and Eastern Market

i can see you shifting in your seat

i didn't used to be so serious

but listen

lots of us don't make it here

lots of us don't make it home

dead kids in their bedrooms

dead people in the street

killed by—

murdered by—

i can feel you getting bored of me

i didn't used to make you uncomfortable

please listen

if you walk through a cemetery, you'll pass people buried under gravestones of strangers

i have friends still hiding while you throw a parade

does growing old hurt?

does it hurt to grow old?

physically, yes

mentally, you have to put up with it

you see all the pills i take?

yeah

supposedly, they're keeping me alive

but you reach a point where they're not effective anymore

and you accept it