Without a Broom

you were thirsty as a desert, like a lion to the flock
all the bottles had been emptied, by the ticking of a clock
on bodies there were bruises
had they got there remained to be seen
al the ashes had been scattered but the floor lay remarkably clean

without a broom without a mop
without a seed without a crop
without a hope without a chance
without a ticket to the dance

we were back alley bumming
we were chewing on bark
we shot it straight into the plumbing
and now we're swimming with the sharks
you can fire up you synapse
light it with desire
you can fall back on your relapse
burn it like a junkyard tire

without a spark without a match
i got an itch to scratch
there's no priest there's no prayer
without a worry without a care

if in our pain we are reformed
then in our tears we are reborn
if it is change that refines us
then we all need a second chance
with you my love i'll have this dance