Oh hobo, so somnambulant
Faded in the manger
Puppetting sleepy movement, a carnival of fantasy
Interval steeped in tea stain drudgery
Swollen nicknacks, belligerent blubberry
Making love in Victorian shrubbery
With your hand in your pocket
The one with the big frayed holes
So big it swallowed sunset
And the geese flew overhead, heading south for the winter
In the last pink autumn clouds
The darkness grew and enveloped you like a sweater, like a sweaty lover
Who never wrote a loving letter
Pa**ing swiftly at drunken speed, fast-forward-train-gallop
Getty-up and get going, the gardener's prodding you with his rake
Urging you abruptly to wake out in the chilly morning air
Steamy when breathed into
Your pocket flask is empty
Your pocket flask is empty