And never stop Be a body for as long as you can Not some smoke Be a human man Not a grey ghost I can't touch with my hand The crumbs you drop Don't guide you back My spinning head falls through the cracks Heavy breath clouding up the screen Tear my eyes away from peeping tom Pictures that appeal Disappointed by former heroes Sick of being the butt of jokes Coming home I've been away She still haunts the airways Beer all the time On chicken-bone road Brown bag alley Liquid coast Weight-lifting stranger Scowling alone Mutant gangs And traffic cones