Coffee House Blues

COFFEE HOUSE BLUES I am in the A.M. Am I ? I think I am! It is A.M. in the coffee house down on MacDougal down the stairs behind closed doors another world enclosed close quarters your last nickel and dime exchanged, for a last cup of Joe. It is a brownstone. Broken bricks enclose broken lives broken hearts broken promises broken dishes broken pockets with broken holes. We are in a hole, a hole in the ground tonight, am, in the A.M. Tonight A.M. I am more am now than ever, though surrounded by sterile pealing cement walls man-made, with no heart no soul no dream of what results. Just slabbed together by ignorant slobs working to make a living in this hellhole of a city they call New York, the center of the world the center of the Universe the Big Apple the big appeal the big pile of and piss, the place of dreams the life force of hope. Huh, what a joke, put in your sorry souls by Corporate Kings fat ugly stodgy stogy smoking stupid law making stupid law breaking sexually perverted slimy slobs, who make sick sauce out of us peons, and then pee on us, while laughing all the way to the Big Brother bank banking our dreams with their sleazy smiles and their filthy pee green greedy hands. Under these bricks and slabs of false man-made micro-worlds of flowing java rivers, I feel more real in the A.M. night, than in the daylight pace of the city rat race to pay my soul to the corporate face. I am in the A.M. at 2 in the A.M., when phony beats have left with their pick-up whores for the night. I am more real more soul more me more feel more more am in the A.M. The remains of the night are here, the real Beats, to beat their rhythm, in drums and flutes and strings and words the real words, the words of life, of the real life. These are my brothers, the ones that remain at 2 A.M. we are we am we jell we mell we mix we become conscious, super conscious. We are One. We won the rubber duck of life and soul. We are the Know Ones. We are No One, the ones who know, know the Truth know our souls our real self the self of fools who fool ourselves. No. We know we are nowhere aware Where? Where? here Here? What do I do here? What do I hear? here Hear? Hear the man up there? Up Where? Up in the Universe? Up on the stage in the coffee house exposing himself, his heart his soul to you to me. It is real. Is it real? It is fine. It is final. We are real. We are oh is fine. We are oh so final.