The garbage piled up at the curb
Always says hello to me whenever I stride
Out of a morning
Moving away from my home

Maybe it’s the pink sunglasses
Or the jet black hair
And eyes like smoke
Maybe it’s the Batman bikini
Or a smile that tells me for certain
That innocence corrupts.

Maybe it’s the fact that I hate this job
And am currently masturbating to Dakota Charms’
videos in the company toilets
while singing Bob Dylan songs
at room razing volume
instead of doing my highly irrelevant work

Maybe it’s those white high heel
stiletto’s echoing on a hard wooden floor
and the fact that I’ve got nowhere left to go but

I think I see a way out.

– Steven Storrie