[brokenhal0]

''Tallahassee''

Fabricated for new mistakes got here early but to you it's late
old habits running tracks like rats in New York city transit tunnels
rancid struggles vandals avoid third rail scandal scuffles
my writing's designed to watch passer-by's pass and go
the message gets pasteurized looking out the windows
took a toll on tempos as tires touchdown in tumbleweed towns
I snort coke with lots of bimbo's until my hands would shake.

On a dreary day I can be scary like a hairy troll on my merry way
hitch a ride cause im barely home , yelling let me go like a thief restrained
the things he stole , would shame Prometheus to keep the fire away
always sleeping when he's late to work , staying sober just to stay berserk.

Attitude disconcerting
if I could only stare into the headlights of a school bus burning
all kindling desire coercing , the imagination of children learning
behind those window wipers , behind those little window wipers
I set a detonation churning , within a pit of vipers
while you're kids are burning.

Like me in the dark with the art of cans
an artisan in the art of trance next stop
Harlem renaissance where love and death want to dance
like sweet debutantes lost in the bronx half naked begging for change
deranged we left vagabond's blood splattered on walls in white plains
speeding down the palisades highway I got the call
the reign won't stop, but it will never wash away the paint I sprayed.

Going east
I stopped traveling the boulevard of broken dreams
when I ran out of breath chasing down old machines
train stations to the stars in and out the go between's
have you ever rode between a train car smoking weed
it made me blush every time the door's would close on me.

Lonely travels as you're homey babbles eating microwaved corn
all the places I been , all the faces I've drawn
vanished like a gust of wind, displaying such moments
showed us, when the roads are risky so are the opponents
gardenia flowers taking showers in exhaust,smoke and petroleum
when the typhoon started I arrived at a parade for pangolins in Mongolia.

Hopped a turnstile swiftly landing in the great beyond
awaken to a lady boy from thailand with a parrot on his shoulder
eating a bologna sandwich telling me the next stop is Minnesota
travel every week train seats a bed to sleep it's better with ketamine
lady with some luggage she better not sit next to me
melancholic madness on levels that will fill the devil with ecstasy.

Kidnapped in the belly of the beast voices are painted deformed
those who relied on me found hotel sheets naked in the morning
the rides are free sitting here forever in search of forgotten blessing
the silent pleasures I find standing in lines doing lots of stretching.

Dressed like im presiding over a gothic wedding , near the isle of lesbos
I teleported through a stained glass window
back seat fingering nympho's chains and ropes
cascade her stoned shadow, veiled in saffron mantle
all passengers depart in San Fernando
cause the sound of sharting in a full bus scenario ,
disguised the art of farting , disgusted by this act
I stand alone where Im starting.

Seductive stranger not knowing death awaits the inner circle
men eagerly do anything to entertain woman in commercials
lust to enter the labia and that just drive's me crazier
lazy mornings waiting for a ride to work
I meet a strap hanger who likes to flirt still a minor
with seductive eyes since birth cursed and she likes to squirt
hiding a fetus inside her skirt
stick a hanger up her vagina every time it hurt's
removing pieces of a incomplete person bleeding completes the circuit
isopropyl clean's the surface she sits with a sick smirk but who's nervous.

Nature reminds her the ties that bind are like vines growing inside ya
met your hero another lonely reminder even the best are less then zero
so keep up you're facades, I'll be singing in the rain , waiting for my
greyhound to god.

I'll be sitting in the rain , waiting for the mob
ill be picking at my chains , sitting in a seat sobbing
every weak throbbing vein in my head , got the streets watching
open the night up , another junkie wanting to get high
hoping you'll light up , for every skipped fare I sit here , high up ,
for every spilled beer im still there , ''why us'' , transistor wires
corroded iron , a ride to nowhere and we're multiplying.

Homeless man who was born a hoarder
killed a bunch of cops hopped across the border
had a habit of breaking pencils let's call it torture
in bandages of burgundy itching his asshole muscle's
damage doubled hitchhiking with coyote he had to cuddle
gust of wind made the cattle struggle sad rebuttal
a man mirrored in a pair of puddles staring toward Tallahassee
veering trouble.