Ice on the ground and the phone booths are like frozen tombstones

its warm inside this bar, and our bellies are full of beer

the city glows a golden red like the alchemists doctrine

and we talk of novels like i do, we talk of japanese and russian writers

i think of no one and watch you serve your customers as you drink from my beer

i am happy, and you kiss me outside as we smoke our youth away

fuck everything you are doing to me, why kiss me, why talk, why be happy that i have been and will go before you.

You are a maelstrom of fuck you.