Johnny Hobo & The Freight Trains No Trespassing Waltz
And it's true that we're teenage fools,
trading five days a week to work and school.
Just to sneak around on weekends watching for the cops,
to waltz in abandoned parking lots,
and call these cracks in the system a revolution.
But to the Vanguard Party that's criticizing:
what have you been up to since the Soviet Union?
when you're not starving,
life is just the mechanics of eating.
Talking to you is raw eternity, but what isn't these days?
and if our only gift is this dark black void, well to me that's okay.
Because our nihilism is the terrorist wing of youthful apathy:
burn everything down just to drink in the ruins of what used to be an American city.
So if it's all the same, then I'll pass out tonight still hating punk rock,
but in love with you and the kitchen floor that you let me sleep on.
There's whiskey in my bottle!
and you know there's enough for you.
I'll join you in the grave you're digging if there's room enough for two.
where there's no risk of death, life is just the logistics of breath.
Tomorrow I'll wake up in a ditch
with every friend that ever meant anything
on the opposite side of the country
but I still wouldn't trade anything for the nights
when the rain promised us at 2 AM in some burnout industrial shell
of a town that will never be dry again.
and I'll keep walking, and running,
and drinking towards a day that I can see suicide as a tragedy.
