I'm drunk on puddles laying thick inside the gutters lined with leaves And some unfortunate fourth grader's math homework that blew away. I'm set on sinking sure of nothing short of flapjacks stacked high In the morning we'll have breakfast and by these rules I choose to live and die. So sweet the water from the faucet drips into the bowl Where porcelain lovers brace the curves of where I put my cereal. And I'm carving marble with the marks left by my boots casting shadows unsuccessful in their efforts to go where I don't move. And I will leave you in the springtime. Send your letters to Colorado. And so your bridges mock the water bragging strength and spilling wide And underground your tunnels hum with trains who trust the tracks they ride. I will leave you in the springtime, When your flowers bloom Windows open to busy streets so full of people passing by I'll be sad to say All of these goodbyes. I'll never know just what it means to be In your arms when birds are singing, And the sun is brighter than before, And the heat is all there is to breathe. I'm going home to somewhere That I want to. The licorice lips of women kept in stockings and skirts too high Honk after cars of businessmen still breathing air but not alive. And the Jezebels and Joker men paint colors on 8th Avenue And I'm chasing cracks in sidewalk paths Just so I know I can still move. I will leave you in the spring time Send your letters to Colorado. Where I'll be.