My car broke down in Arizona, have to ride the bus again, at ten-o-clock on Tuesday night, with thirteen cents and a broken pen. I put my backpack on the bench, tell two people I don't smoke, see the cop across the street, he thinks that I am selling dope, I could have walked another block, to get away from the scene. Why does it always come to this, where zero meets fifteen?
And so I gave my thirteen cents, to the man who peed his pants. He passes out and falls on me, I watch my change fall from his hand. I see the lady next to me, holds her baby black blue. The junkie gutter-punks keeps asking, where I got my new tattoo. What does it matter anyway, thirteen cents or all I own? How can I ever save the world, on cup-o-soup and student loans?
I want to try and save the world, but it never goes that way. God I don't know what to do, down at Colfax and Broadway.
Now the man with no shoes on, says I don't know how to play. He says I fumble all the time. He thinks that I am John Elway. I put my face down in my hands, water wells inside my eyes. What do I have to give them? Does it matter if I try? I can't stand to see you suffer, I try to intellectualize, a formula to end you pain, it doesn't work, God knows I've tried. Sometimes my cup is overfilled. Sometimes I'm too afraid that I'm going to spill.
