morning these chains

morning these chains old lives
caress you again

a footprint in neatly raked asphalt
the old tar pits

now you are on the West Coast
flying to Japan
with a girl who says she loves you
but her moods are not your moods

now you are in the Midwest
flying to hell
the farmer's mad, your tablemate is crazy
whereas you are only
deeply depressed

now you are in the Hamptons in the lap
of improbable luxury
with a Chinese girl who wants you to fuck her
on the beach
you oblige

morning these chains old lives
but the air is pure, the maples are
deep red
and times have changed