launDRY mat

sittin at the laundry mat and i wrote this, definatly a place that gets me thinking for some reason.

A place where kids ran rampid, like grown ups living in the hamptons

their parents struggled, like swimming with a cramp, barely gettin by

scraping scraps of food clawing away at life til they were bruise and 

used up by a moocher, this place where change is used to cleanse

the future, in hopes someday they will be middle class. time passes

by but the clothes arn't dry. theres never enough change so we trot

like we ought to be dancing in the rain, moms outside with a guy

smoking like a train. Family never handed me the truth so i found it

myself, like these simple kids we're happy without the wealth.