1. Jailbird


Hot drinks and cold mornings were meant for each other
And libraries and lattes go hand in hand
And in mine I've got nothing
In my mind there is much
What’s the rush

The pages I fold and tattoo and abuse
Wear evidence of caffeinated lullabies
And I dream of the departure
This spine has had its torture
From this sad excuse for furniture

Oh, I'm a jailbird

These hours must be days long every day a wasted crime
These crimson fingers wasted on somebody else’s dime
Still I stay at wooden tables
Still I pray I'll come out soon
Out of this womb

But all these robots and machines compete for numbers on a page
Their wires never tire though their oil needs a change
And my question that remains is
What's the lesson to be gained
From paying for fancy fucked up names

Oh, I'm a lifer who can't decipher

Between the bars
Bail me out