Brick Dust Blues

You swear the gears in your brain have grown rusty
From turning over prairies and May snow
The stumbling bluffs steal the passion from your paint
And you're marching in step with a destiny you don't own
So you'll cake your shoes with brick dust
And orphan these blistering plains
For a series of strangers and skylines
To swell and grey your white, vaporous brain

Your window whispers the drone
Of the cold city's chaos outside
And your gypsy bones spill their marrow
In swarms of acrylic relief
And you sprawl the length of your mattress
With no ties to kiss your face at night
But will you still believe in this freedom
Once the good feeling dies?