Alvarado Street

All the junkies say
Scratch that itch
They will
Pepper their grunts with
Syllables at times

Crystal clear
Or maudlin
Godspeak  or
Insincere promises
Of reform

In Hell
They’re asked
Are those trax
No, a freckle
In Hell
They all lie

And they like it that way
It’s warm there
Cuz in the fleabag
Fleabite Hotel it’s
Always colder than
Some coalminer’s ass

Scratch that itch, Angel
Come with me
Fish always smell better                                                  
On ice