and while I don't drink anymore
I still know the best dive bars in Brooklyn.
I crashed a funeral in the rain,
while a Chopin sonata played,
and all the black umbrellas swayed,
like the wind was slowly driving them insane.
Living in the universe’s echo,
I am the total inventory of the cosmos,
and yet I still get heart hurt.
Little things and low-hanging fruit,
the habit of action is the only thing
that hinders the progression of doom
that is always there, hiding.