Chinatown Bus, 8pm n95 South, heading back again nThe sun drops low against a yellow sky nThe city looks nice, I don't know why nnI came to NY with a 2-day plan nNow it's one week later, and look where I am nSame city, different day, but we're finally leaving town nAll I can see are these factories, and I wish I could tear them down nnTompkins Square, a few days back nSome friends, a guitar, and a backpack nThey're copping dope, walking off real quick nComing back, nodding off, it's sad as shit nnI know too many good people who have sold their hope nTo a broken record and a bag of dope nAnd it's sad to see a friend fall when you thought the war was won nI act as if that's easy, yeah, it's easier said than done nnJ Train station, scammed a pass nHeading out to Brooklyn, looking back nGot a big heart and an empty hand nA friend and a pack and tentative plans nnDrank 40s til dawn with a bunch of good kids nWent to sleep and woke late just to do it again nLate night biking and punk rock shows, the finer things indeed nSocializing and organizing, spreading the seed nn2 hearts beating, a kiss in the dark nA beautiful woman, an industrial park nManhattan skyline, East River shore nA moment in time never seen before nnIt's nice to find beauty in a fucked up place nWith the poverty and misery this creates nAnd it's strange to think that one day it'll all come crashing down nAnd if no ones around to hear it, you think it'll make a sound? nnOrange moon glowing, Philadelphia fades, nStraight 48, southbound train nAt last we're moving, the warm wind blows nTo Baltimore or Pittsburgh, who really knows nI'm thinking about her, it's probably 3am nHeading free through the Appalachian Mountains nI'm awake, my eyes wide open, another day's ahead nOne lung pumps for the living, the other pumps for the dead