(I Don't Want to) Ride the Piss and Graffiti Train Anymore

(I Don't Want to) Ride the Piss and Graffiti Train Anymore

I'm going nowhere, fast
With my constant companions, catastrophe and despair
For what it's worth
I always let despair have the last word
We, the invisible poor, cannot be seen by you
But, on this crowded carriage home from work
We can be smelled from first-class
Our silent dignity has been spoiled by dogma
Still, I'll try to love my crooked neighbour
    With my crooked heart
    It's a start

Did you read my note?
I won't be home for tea, so don't wait up
But don't worry, sweetheart, I've taken my pills today
This morning, on the platform
I thought perhaps I could skip this life completely
And try my chances with lady luck in the next
Maybe, one day I won't flinch when I see
A stranger lift her hand to hail down the morning bus
Tell me, how can I build a life on foundations so withered?
    "One and one makes two together",
    Said someone who should know better

Because my tie was knotted wrong
As the radio played someone else's favourite song
The headlights gun me down, as I shuffle home on the overpass
In a tired, lifeless old town; just one of those places
Where our parents tell stories, not by words or endeavours 
But by the lines on their faces

Technicolour never made it here
We need a new coat of paint on these dusty old walls, Becky
When I was out of town I heard you let Frank Galecki shoot his Glock off
Between the sheets of the bed I built,
I'm not angry, just sadder than I ever remember being
So, please, please, please let a new coat of paint rewind the clock
And you can wear the second-hand gown I bought you when we were 18
    Because we left school in a hurry; in a hormonal flurry
    and I still haven't seen you wearing it

Like you've seen me - your raggedy-man,
Without an evening's plan; quiet and drunk: my tie knotted wrong
As the jukebox plays someone else's favourite song
And as I waste another week's pay
I rue the overcast day, whence I left the infinity of your deep blue eyes
And chose to become obsessed with midnight;
The virginity locked away between your pale, skinny thighs
    Did you read my note?
    I don't think I can sleep in our bed anymore
(At least not until we do something about these walls)

Tonight, I want pool-cues and booze
Dead flowers strung up to the lamp-post
Painted white bicycles on the roadside
And I don't want to ride this piss and graffiti train anymore
And I don't want your name to hang upon my front door
And I don't want to love you
And I don't want this song to matter to anyone at all

The forgotten faces leave their prisons
And all they look upon is grey, chewing-gum and litter strewn pavements
But tonight, when I alight, I'll buy twenty Bensons
and chase an albino-white rabbit tail until Sunday morning
Or when I find rose-perfumed silence, at last
And I'll say, "Je suis ivre sur la lune",
Because escape is always worth the capture
    When no-one knows you at home, anymore
    and your face begins to resemble a Jenny Saville painting

Did you read my note, Becky?