a collection of sexin' 1(one)

you'll never make it.

there's a song i think of when im anywhere

cold alone, fucked in the middle of chicago.

or cozy and warm in my bed.

it was a welcome feeling.

even when alleys threatened to harm me.

i didnt care.

winter was a son of a bitch.



Midtown

uptown was the makings of wealth

banks, apartments, sky scrapers, newspaper stands.

so i didnt visit much.

i was low-life, downtown type guy

never really acheived much

lackluster life style

the only thing involving me being a straight shooter

or having an aim that was true was

when id piss into stinkin gutters.

i got a postcard from Italy,

or shit, maybe Ibiza.

saving it.

saving it.

if i drink enough gin, it's the next best thing.


LaSalle.

i thought i was all used up.

i wasntso fuck.

the vcr is broken
i got a videotape
it's got memories, lots of em.

graduations, weddings, family reunions, baby video.
gone, if this fucking thing wouldnt work

tracking.

goddamn tracking.

an action packed duel with my vcr is what i enviosned on this summer afternoon.

Postcards.

Yes, I received your postcard.
No, it's not fine with me. (your decision with me)

but you do what you want, and as you please.
so who am i to interfer?

FINALE.

I watch conciensce and loyalty slip out of you.

like a gasp for air on the coldest winter day.