Friday, February 11, 2005

midwinter, junky-moon

(To the tune of Huron Carol)

'Twas in the moon of wintertime
when all the heroes fled
that Junkie West Bank Manitou
declared "everything is said"

No use to mourn the weakest now
no use to slay the beast
jes' look into my crystal ball.
Go ahead... find some peace.

The junkie riffled through the vest
... pocketed the loot
The guy was laid out on the ice.
His face had ate the boot.

And soooo
I grabbed the wretch, said "please,
help me lift your friend...

Threw him up against the wall,
"I saw you take his shit."

He says: "We ben gittin' high all night
jes' met 'im in the bar.
Jes' let go my coat, my friend,
here's the keys to his car.

"Don't fuck with me.
Help me get him inside or he'll freeze out here."

"OK, ya know, brother mon,
I'm not down with this chump.
Jes' let go the jacket, mon,
an we'll take 'im where it's warm."

And as I rolled John Doe on his side
so's not to choke on bile...
that goddamn, f***in' junkie booked.

Gave an inch... lost a mile.

The blood lay thick upon the snow
he searches for his teeth.
When the flashing lights exposed;
brought meager, late relief.

(Cops couldn't give a shit)

And so you've heard my story now.
Cheap apathy and woe.
So steel your mind and freeze your heart...
there's 'nother millenium to go.

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