The corner of the room is bare There are no decorations on the walls The carpet lifts and rots away The books have broken spines A mirror shows me as I am today Superimposed on blank and foetid space Beneath my feet is sticky and decayed I've nothing left in mind This vision is romantic and untrue I lie quite comfortably and write these words Social security will keep me warm I am not powerful or rich You know my name but I do not know yours You hear my words; I've never heard of you I wouldn't know you from a bar of soap The walls have ears! Turn off the toaster and burn all the books Eat off the floors and defecate on chairs There is no room for all of us in here We'll have to go People hang on to their lives and people hang on to our lives This is a mess of tangled, fucked-up thoughts...