Thursday, March 31, 2011

Hard Time Friends

Brought up in a ghost town you comprehend
There are no friends like hard time friends
Our reflections ran across empty store windows
Then retreated to the suburbs before the sun rose
Where people put shit in a box and call it food
We had to escape, dying to live and make good
Leaving your prefab house to find ruins ancient
Chased by your shadow wherever you went
I burrowed into sewer grates or great big sewers
Finding in old lamps and records something newer
Sometimes I think I’d give my hobo bundle away
To run across those store windows with you for a day

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