In Smoke
I want to disappear down long hallways and paint the city red.
Where old men appear in lanky attire and attempt to steal you with their whirlpools.
All four one foot in?
But we’re walking along a tight rope,
In a circus,
Bereft of clowns.
Where the elephants are cripples
and nothing goes up in smoke.
oh hey crew reference
i’ve been there, and the face-painted smiles and nicotine grins are like cheap wall-paper, they peel and crack off when you lean on them to help you up the stairs.
That’s why you sleep on the stairs.
Also, the NQRW trains sing the refrain to “Somewhere” from West Side Story.