Borrowed from The Immortal Jukebox .
It’s dark when you set off for another shift at the plant and it’s dark when you get back to this dark room in the boarding house held together with flaking paint. Your overalls are stuck fast to your back and your body holds on to the ache reminding you that there are still some things you can feel.
The radio doesn’t work anymore and the TV is filled with smiling fools selling dreams no one believes in any more or pictures of boys who could be your sons dying in Vietnam for a reason you never could get.
Outside there’s someone shouting at someone something about something that never mattered anyhow. The rain’s begining to fall and the moon stares silently down promising to keep the worlds secrets for one more night.
You stopped off at the corner to buy a bottle that’ll take you through till sleep…
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