I have crossed this road before    for many years I'm sure    don't recognize the faces though    that pass me by    I've been off and on my way again    passed marsh road atherton    black mountain way and bored    stale houses on the yellowed plains    I'm going off again and    for no good reason    year by year I've achieved some type of feeling that    suggests I've traveled miles that lead to nowhere fast    I've seen the lot of them    from queens to journeyman    bigots and confidantes    I've spoken to and laughed with    destructive catalysts    professionals and loyalists    punk rock pop nihilists    have grown up amongst suburban architects    who can say that it was all deceiving    or that anybody was mislead?    I'm not the one to be judging    I may not even be who I think I am    The asphalt is my burning bed    has left me invalid    puts me to sleep at night    in the arms of some strange no mans land    I'll be back northbound and west    I need the fucking rest    but in the meantime    these broken roads and homes will ring in my head