i can’t die now

i wake up tired, i wake up pissed
i wonder how things ended up like this
but i don’t wonder long
because i’ve got another show to do

i open my glazed eyes to blurred piles of laundry. all mine, because laundry is one of my most messy spots. my ceiling looks stark and angry. i need to paint the damned thing. my walls are a buttery yellow, the color of the solar plexus. with walls that color, you should not have a ceiling that feels hostile.

i’m sick at my stomach from the A.Z.T
broke at my bank cause that shit ain’t free
but i’m here to stay, at least another week or two
cause i’ve got another show to do

put another roll of toilet paper on. empty the trash can. empty her bathroom trash. her foley is full, so i empty that, too. clean out the bucket. pile the laundry in the basket and start a load. don’t drag your feet on the floor in those slippers, she hates the noise and any noise she hates will drag her from sleep and it’s too damn early for that yet.

don’t give me no pity, don’t give me no grief
wait til i die for sympathy
just help me with this amp and a guitar or two.
i can’t die now, cause i’ve got another show to do

cereal in the bowl and cold 2%. i have to get something on my stomach, or i can’t take my own meds. and damn if i don’t need to go ahead and take my first dose. this weather has the fire ants in my joints gnawing their way out. i should drink coffee, it keeps me from eating. i always lose some weight when i get on coffee and off the food.

don’t give me no preachin’ no self servin’
and i ain’t no angel but nobody’s deservin’
i can dance on my own grave thank you.
but i can’t die now, cause i got another show to do

flip the tv on, check twitter, check email, check facebook…until the moment about halfway through that routine where i realize i’m hyper-stimulated and my hearts racing and it’s only 8 o’clock in the fucking morning. so i turn down the tv, to where i can barely hear it. i flip til i find some innocuous HGTV sort of stuff. i have to put the smart phone down until my meds have kicked in and i can handle it all.

some people keep sayin’ i can’t last long
but i got my bands, i got my songs
liquor, beer, and nicotine to help me along
and i’m drunk and stubborn as they come
chain smokin’, guitar pickin until i’m gone
gone, gone, gone

luckily, it doesn’t take too long. i fell back asleep for a half hour or so. when i wake, i’m sweaty and stable. i do a load of dishes after the clothes go in the dryer. the back yard looks bleak out the window over the sink. those damned blackbirds are nesting in my tree line again. i tip-toe back in the bedroom, and try for the first time this morning to wake her, stir her, get her up. “not yet” she says. “i’m just gonna lay here a little bit longer” she says. i ask her to take her morning meds, but her belly is upset again and she doesn’t want to move. “ok, but you need to get moving. you know you won’t feel better til you get moving”. i have a feeling she knows that.

i ain’t got no political agenda
ain’t got no message for the youth of america
except wear a rubber
and be careful who you screw. 

listen