Chamomile

In a fever-fit of deadweight exhaustion
the sun lays down behind Patterson St
the time card punch sings the end of the day
the smoke stacks keep puffin' - they don't take breaks
young girls worry in bathroom mirrors
get dolled up for high hopes that lead to bad mistakes
young boys play grown-up talkin' shit in the parking lot
pretending to be so much tougher than they are

From the first story windowsill
the old drunk looks out toward the sporting field
it's about this time on almost every evening
he says, "I almost made it."
the buildings, they are so tired of the lives inside
eternal tenants of sedated dreams
communicate this to the radiator hiss
the creak in the floorboards and bad pipes

Oh, it's amazing
how fast your life can pass at a slow pace
oh, it's incredible how the scenery falters
but the faces stay the same

Inside of downtown in the arms of a lukewarm night
shoes clickin' to the neon flickerin'
down the blocks that he hated to love
passed the drug store where he was caught stealing
his mother cried for two hours straight
passed the diner and the tip top club
where cops and slaves shoot their pool and self-medicate

Passed those gas stations
with lottery tickets that move like drugs
passed the churches where philanthropy is spoiled
by translation in detail

Memories came in that foggy flood
as goose bumps jumped on his skin
the bus stations and a phone number far away
he sighed, there is no going back

oh, in the big scheme, none of this will mean much at all
so I'm gonna do it all if I can be there
oh it's all so beautiful it's unbearable
oh it's unbearable that it is beautiful