I used to skip class in the city

and sit with homeless in the park.

I just didn’t understand and

it gave me anxiety headaches

trying to relate to my peers.

The men there didn’t say much,

they just mulled over my presence

and respected my silent hour.

I got an A that semester.

My instructor even praised my final—

some interview I rushed, and

it was there I found

How silly it all was.

And how little I’d have to try—

It’s like I didn’t have to be there at all

and it would all keep moving.

It would all be weightless

and either way in debt

To my semester

In the park

…

Baby I’m not bad news I’m

just full of empty space

If you’re the rope then I’m the noose

you’ll tie then say my grace

Would you agree I came too soon

like mornings sunken face

When hopes and dreams were plentiful

since then I’ve been replaced—

By what our mothers told us not

to worry, we were young

For what our fathers griped about

at home when they were done

It wasn’t them but us who felt

their pains of growing old

Now adults we’re much younger than

their hands which we still hold—

Cause baby you’re the good news I’ve

been keeping from myself

It’s for the best, regardless yet

I’ll wish then wish you well

And if by chance there’s room enough

to hang around a while

It’s there they’ll say it’s quite a shame

what an awful, gentle smile