wait for me here, hobo
i will return soon
carrying with me a hot dog
with ketchup as you ask

don't think about freedom
or what it might do to me
i will do as you have told me
because you smell and i smell too

if i shot whiskey before i came here
we might've talked for hours as before
but when i'm sober, your face disgusts me
like a rusted running motor - hot old oily metal

as i melt into the darkness
the philly night begins to smile
pet shit smeared artistically on the pavement,
thongs, piss, dumpsters, hot dog boxes on my mind and on my feet