absolution in this city in this town, !

Listens: (paperback writer, you are)

you fill buildings with people and they rip at the seams.

armies and ice and dirty green
newspapers shovels sand on the breeze
and i dream of eliot when i smell the street
and it's sometimes wise just to shut your eyes

workers and lovers make their living space neat
bent out of shape over what to eat
and i dream of eliot but i am discreet
'cause it's sometimes wise just to shut your eyes

and somebody's suffering infected my dreams

how sure how right can anyone be on sight
i said i had hope
i lied