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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Why slap somebody's else's face when you like to slap your own Why remain polite with crooked strangers upon the phone Standing at the crossroads of my own nightmare I want to jump on that train of despair Ride my way out of here I'm a passenger without a destination Down that bridge towards hesitation No fear and no reservations Lost to this world and lost to myself Shards of broken glass left on that shelf And if my glass heart supposedly feels nothing Around here everybody's a friendly stranger In love with the loveless and that's the danger Carrying all those burdens except their own Smashing up that busy downtown pay phone And sometimes I find a dime or two In search of the time I give to you Your empty faces for the system Another dollar for a number Don't call yourself a victim Why slap my face when I can spit on yours Another vacation house by the seashore A rock garden and what a bore Out on the balcony, such a phony Fake kindness and laughter from an old crony And if I'm a familiar stranger In love with love and there's none here, that's the danger I'd rather hightail it in front of that train Moving quickly in the darkness again Down those tracks into the night's oblivion. And if I find a day or two I'll tell the whole story to you Don't call me a victim I relented halfway with this system Don't call me a friendly stranger, there's no real danger.
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