Lamppost

I'm sick
The list of hits, hurts, hard rocking rolls renders under my stomach.
The man guarding the lamppost insists on protecting his turf

Wondering streets, I think I may have made a wrong turn.
I laugh at huge mistakes, yet I continue to strive
Knowing the man at the lamppost continues to guard his home

I've walked across a soothsayer, and was showered with praise
Great fortune indeed will follow my name
And come night fall, if I am not too brave
I will be under the blessing of golden hands

It's dark and cold, it's wet obviously under water waiting, wading off shore
The door is missing a key, the deadbolt is on the inside
The anger locks my throat, and I can't yell for the man at the lamp post

I envy him, his cigarette, the security behind paranoia
He knows he has something somebody wants, though nobody seeks to destroy it
But by it, he is safe.  Totally, and indefinitely safe

I hold in my hand treasures that I'm told are grand,
Yet nobody pries my knuckles for searching what I might hide
I've teased the passers-bye, still only disgust catches my eye

My hands are earthy, scared and black, and glistening
The sweat of treacherous, malicious, mal-adaptive yearning reflects like gold
And all I see is the joy of ignorant evil from men whom I've encountered

I've escaped into the damp and soggy fog to avoid the fingers
Where my shoes are soaked, my pants are scratchy, and I am hindered
By my unimaginable loneliness.

I scoff at the man by the lamppost, his treacherous Cerberus will be his downfall
I am not intimidated, and I spit at the thought of what he's got
Still he guards it... as if it's all there is in the world
Because one day, somebody some where will want it

Days pass, painstaking reminders that history fades and only what is important remains
And in my hand I hold a glorious treasure? NOW THAT may be historical
The pain I've groveled for on the stone in the alley in the wake of a lamp post

And it's all true, and I am worthless
The hairy bastard under the light has me at his ankles...
I find myself kissing the feet of a man
Who's only asset is that lamp post.