I'm like a dead god, — truly out of nowhere, on the right – wretched,

I'm like a dead god, — truly out of nowhere, on the right – wretched, on the left – like a dried barracuda. I don't see the point. I look around, I look into the eyes of the homeless. And they turn their gaze away, as if I'd stolen their conscience… On this languid evening, taking a barre chord, I'll sit on the roof – Closer to the sky. Everything you hear is already in you. Forever. As long as you breathe.