Friend
I stumbled across this piece today. It dates back to the early 90s. Even though I performed it fairly regularly, I have no memory of having written it. That’s how it goes sometimes.
She could never take care of herself. She was an accident waiting to happen, she was a bull in a china shop, she was dead but she wouldn’t lie down.
I used to say to her, forget it, this place, this time, it’s not for us, not for me and you. You walk down the street and what is this place, this place is a shambles, this place is a slaughterhouse, people a hundred years from now will look back on us and say “My God, how could they live like that?!”