vultures and helicopters overhead i'm broken down    used car blues, it's no time to joke around.    the only solution i can think of so far    is to smash out the windows with a crowbar.    and as the headlights shatter into stars one by one,    i curse the at the road and try to knock out the sun.    i kick in the corner panels, son of a whore.    the paint starts to chip off as i rip off one of the doors.       same hotel room again with the right mixture    of terrible smells and dead flies in the light fixture    i listen to the oldies station, half asleep and kind of smokey    girl in the next room is howling like a coyote.    hand in my pants, feeling like a phyllistine    all eyes empty, every door way a guillotine.    i'm drunk on lonliness, out of shape and half eaten    the phone don't work and god's in a staff meeting.       out of breath at the end of a long summer.    waiting for a phone call that isn't a wrong number.    a smile from a pretty girl, feet don't fail me.    i sleep like a baby and get out of jail free    i spit my teeth in my hand and read the classifieds.    poke holes in my memories until i'm satisfied.    i'm drawn to familiar environments and dangers.    i look at my photo albums and all i see are strangers.