In this putrid little city where David lives and David will die, David has looked one too many people in the eye. The only thing he cares about bleeds once a month and doesn’t die – blonde hair and blue eyes. Everybody’s on a journey, its just David started early, he a foreboder, bad luck owner, good luck proner. He’s a wannabe drunk and a try-to-be stoner.
And this day, this week, this month David feels like the next person he will see could be his best friend or his enemy. And that? That’s the way it goes, it’s the only way he knows ‘cos he’d never trust any one of us.
He goes to see an ‘angel’ for an hour at a time; she’s the only one who can satisfy his mind. He never tells his sweetheart, he cares more for her than for the stars that shine/the hands of time. He sits there and he tells her about his hopes and dreams, how he wishes he could punish all the queers and thieves – Davids only real crime is honesty. The Angel sits and listens with a lump in her throat, she knows that David could be great but he won’t – he’s too eaten up with the pain of this world and she really wishes she could’ve been his girl. She would’ve set her self straight, taken him away to all the places where he could forget about all the hate.
And this day, this week, this month David feels like the next person he will see could be his best friend or his enemy. And that? That’s the way it goes, it’s the only way he knows ‘cos he’d never trust any one of us.
David’s got this road that he likes to walk down, on the edge of town where even the landlords frown. On one side of the road is a little row of houses where he lies in wait to put in the final bid. On the other side of the road is a river of the purest black, where he could end it all if he felt like that. Underneath this bridge at the end of the lane is a place where David can go and go insane for a little while – write over other peoples graffiti and see what happens for a little while.
And one day he’ll tell his sweetheart all of his secrets, take her to his places, show here the faces that get a reaction – that don’t make him feel so pale and unobserved like hers. She’ll smile and say in rhyme that she knew all the time, she’s been watching from afar, falling in love with the way things are, and Davids little reportage. She’ll say ‘I love you now, more than I ever did you fucked up little twister, now give me your kids’.
This day, this week, this month David feels like the next person he will see could be his best friend or his enemy. And that? That’s the way it goes, it’s the only way he knows ‘cos he’d never trust any one of us.
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