The drip drops in the coffee pot
Knock, knock
Foot steps shuffle across the floor.
“Hey, how you doing?”
“Can I get a set-up?”
Click of the pen runs smooth across the paper.
The smell of warm piss
With
New York City streets
Fills the room
As the keys jingle at the door.
The coffee is bitter
The tea is sweet
The oatmeal is stale
Ravioli is a luxury.
Don’t touch them
Don’t touch me
Just make it home.
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Yeah, that’s why I find it important to stay true to who I am.
If lost your sole and only possession, if OK. But if you lost your SOUL is not so fine.
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