bitter cold of mid-November
of a year that i barely remember
the night so cold, i could see my breath
past the liquor store on queen st. west
i was visiting Toronto for a week
looking to get away from all the bleakness
that had been weakening my mind
and burying my feeling until even i was blind to them
the print by Klimt on the washroom wall
seemed to prophesize the fall
the fragmented pigment related the story
of me fucked up in all my glory
my life had turned into quite the mess
and how I had become obsessed
with fixing everyone around
and running away from my own sound
concertgoers to the phoenix nightclub
the double bill they’re seeing tonight, up
first are local rockers; they’re righteous
up next is a mainstream band; quite pretentious
i don’t wanna stay for this shit
let’s take off and smoke a spliff
and listen to some trippy music
drop some hits and really lose it
when you land, you’re gonna land hard
and that will be your sole reward
a lesson learned the hardest way
that you seem to have forgotten anyway
now you have me completely disarmed
and yet i feel no alarm
i’m all too happy to go with the flow
that takes me back to what I know
staying up past four in the morning
watching the night turn into day
the sun beating down on the pavement
and all the workers begin the daily fray
soon I’ll join them once again
this excursion eventually must end
all that’s left is my rotting gut
and an ashtray full of cigarette butts
and the print by Klimt on the washroom wall
somehow symbolized it all
the city, the pity, the pathos, the power
ever fading by the hour
and there it lost its myth to me
this great big place it used to be
but it’s just like any other place on earth
when it boils down to it, a piece of dirt
c’mon, let’s go get some breakfast
i don’t want this empty ache in my gut to last
i’ve lost my desire for this place
i’m ready to call it quits and forfeit the race
bitter cold of mid-November
of a year that i barely remember
the night so cold, i could see my breath
one more night towards my death
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