BANG-on mind of a drowsy brain in a rust-lit hole of a saloon
Every face here is pretty enough for the D.M.V.

Stack a plastic up, knock a whisky down,
Wonder why your hair’s grown long
What’s if feel like, all clammy-neck on the pillow?

The original heroes exist outside our time and inside our walls
“They” are dead, but “they” named it after “their”–
The lie we all pass on into stories and pictures.

None of us go to heaven,
But there is an afterlife if you keep your mouth shut
And sell beer to strangers
Looks like I’m immortal
After all

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