Everything's a mess,
I sleep, but don't undress,
Drinking all but the Tia Maria.
I never finished any of these books
Hanging open like houseplants
Begging for water and a little reading,
Holding that one big idea I'm needing.
I know what I don't want.
I really know what I don't want.
I don't really know what I want, do I?
Another black shirt
Won't show the dirt,
I could wash, but I don't even bother.
Some piece of trite trash trumpets out the radio
But I don't turn it off.
I need to loathe its creation.
Contempt is my one contemplation.
'Cause I know what I don't want.
I really know what I don't want.
I don't really know what I want, do I?
Red in the face
From the air in this place.
It's close, so I open the window.
Something about heights makes a man
Start to reach for the bottom.
Dull in the mind from oversleeping,
I look for the things that are really worth keeping.
'Cause I know what I don't want.
I really know what I don't want.
I don't really know what I want, do I?