The Dive at Joes
Dimly lit and smelling of piss
I pull the stool to cushion the blow
Give it to me straight
Tell me tall tales
So I can see, as I tip my hat down
A place for the lost
The used ups and washed outs
Grit and stench, accepted
Pressing the filter between bitter lips
Lighting something other than life
Filtering days
Lost in smoke
Drowning in smooth
Tomorrow is doable
If this were sad, it'd be goodbye
If this were joy, it'd be hello
It just is, how's the wife and kids?
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