I’m holding myself together here
Tiny vodka in the trash bin, secret downtown sin
Trying to capture images of my fleeting feelings in the red brick
In the sunset
In the sidewalk cracks and blacktop
It’s Good Friday
All I smell is the loud Coney Island off the highway
Enticing oil breezing by me, it should be a high day
Hope he doesn’t taste the raspberry burn on my lips
Hope he forgets that I’m not sleeping
Hope I’m as good as keeping it together as I used to be
God knows I can’t keep myself from me