Domestic Affairs

The Christian kids and homeless are hangin’ downtown. Both of them are starting to freak you out, Neither seems to help the other one round, At least not as much as you’d think. You read enough books to make em think you’ve read more. You’re a story stealing, easy bleeding, Seventh Ave Lord. You think that you’d help her find the door If you really wanted out. And I don’t know why you miss her when you spent all our time with her. I don’t know if you’re in love, but you’re sure into something. And I doubt you’ll fess up to how damn well you messed it up. You just walk around til you come down from the next best thing to the time before. The hometown hippies and week-a-year itchies Aren’t any more wise than they are pretty, But are you any different, really? Where you are doesn’t care where you’ve been. A city full of people dodgin’ eyes of the homeless Except for a preacher, cop, and tourist, And the best that you can do is a Cup of not enough change. And I don’t know why you miss her when you spent all our time with her. I don’t know if you’re in love, but you’re sure into something. And I doubt you’ll fess up to how damn well you messed it up. You just walk around til you come down from the next best thing to the time before. You crucify Christ six days a week, and everyone else on the seventh. Other than Mrs. Robinson down the street, your curiosities have left. Never met a sin medicine couldn’t fix, but you’re just starting to notice That in the best and worst moments, life isn’t something you’d really miss.