Friday night
with all the pressure that implies
and I'd run out of alibis
and so I had to go
I went and I saw the show
people whom I vaguely know
stand in line and make a row
and I left without goodbyes
My head and my back
the bones of my body stacked
atop each other clicker-clack
as I walk on
and I feel so far gone
in my head I write this song
hoping I won't wait too long
at the subway track;
I'm singing,
Downtown and Brooklyn, take me home tonight
and the F train,
the F train knows I need it, yes,
and never comes with speed, it just
lives to spite me
I have no control, I have no power
I could be standing here for an hour
for all it cares to expedite me
there's a death-song in my head,
and I fight the urge to sing
there's a man on the saxophone,
he's playing "My Favorite Things"
now when I'm underground I'm practically dead
all I want is rest and end and bed
and too many thoughts come into my head
and this is when they like to screw with me
and I'll be raw before they'rethrough with me
sometimes don't know what to do with me
all my best-laid plans
am I mouse or am I man?
Downtown and Brooklyn, take me home tonight
my life's a pattern of mute invitations
fear of acceptance and new obligations
humiliations I never have borne
self-judging rancor and self-serving scorn
all my friends and their personal trials
and all of their bands and their passionate styles
Kentile Floors and the county of Kings
these are a few of my favorite things
when the train comes
I still feel dumb
feel like I been had
I simply remember my favorite things
and then I don't feel so bad.