Trash Pit Blues

Thousands of days old and crumbling together,

Rolling into a single pile of confusion.

'Any time is better than now,' she said, 

So she could never see the moon whole.

How fast does the square rock roll?

Probably the same speed as a broke down locomotive.

I think it's all about the potential.

Take those corners, round them out, you've got the wheel.

Back alleys sing little songs no one hears,

Like wailing children and hissing cats-

Used black claws on tarnished trash can lids.

'Everyone here has a story, but they don't listen,'

She said.  'Cutting you off before you finish.'