Brick Unit

The gallows on a grey world with their snarled weeping widows and willows
A pain of the badlands in my head like the mercy and justice absent from them all
To do a line of black dahlia rose ashes
Next to your meal of whatever cheap fast food you can grab
The apartment heat is always high yet you feel so cold
The alcoholics down the hall just won't quiet on this morning
So you wish them a suffering end like the flies that drop dead from chemicals on your wall
You're yearning to drink its been so many months and your occasional smoking is giving
Looking out the windows at the street below
Only to look back at some screen or book
The distortions from your radio make you want to vomit
But you have to level yourself
After all you live alone and if you should fall and die
No one may find you till there hardly any flesh on your bones
I watch the street preacher preach his sermon on the corner below
Talking about how this is some country of god and how we must change our ways
The same man comes from a line of moonshine and a special kind of inbred
There's no place for either of us in this city
I'm the problems he's addressing
And in turn he's another person who's a problem for me
There is no way of putting guilt and trial into the ways of living
If that's one thing I've seen from observing and being alone
I think I'd like to earn some more

Life After Death

When you’re sitting at the funeral wake 
And the purple mountains are tainted with hazy red and orange
And as beautiful as the earth really seems
Everyone around you is full of bullshit you know
You don’t have no one, no shoulders to lay a head upon nor cry upon
And even if you did wouldn’t all your regrets still be there in the morning
Every midday, every afternoon
You love to see every minute of the sun
But you stay up most of the night to wait out the storm in the dark
Baptized bastards, and you can tell them from so far away
They try to run you to the edge of the world
So you can fall right off the edge
But you just keep going around and around
And no one anywhere cares about you
Whether you live or should you die
Weather you lay on your bed bleeding
Or on the floor crying
Your body sore with welts
Or bruises the size of fists or big bosomed women
The cigarettes ain’t helping you anyway
Your hangover getting worse
Age is a pile of mule shit 
Even though you don’t have a single wrinkle on your skin
You’re turning grey