You’re not the one who brought me here.
You never built my hopes or fears.
You never touched me—not inside.
You never fed my foolish pride.
And now that we’re done
how do I do
justice to you?

What do I do?
What do I tell you?
You’re not the one who brought me here.
All of these nights we spent together
all these years
and years

they were for you.
They were forgotten
just as fast as they arrived.
Now I can’t say if we have lived or
survived—
just survived.

What do I do?
What do I tell you?
Why should I lie?
How do I keep my love alive?
What are my hopes?
What are these dreams?
Why did I stay here all this time?

A blind man turned to face me
and the Buddha in the back of a truck
I don’t know why he chose to grace me
with a look
but it stuck

And the Buddha said,
‘Don’t follow me’
And the blind man said,
‘Then set me free’

There’s a buffalo in the basement
and a paddy at the bar getting drunk.
He said, ‘If they don’t find a replacement
with my luck
I’ll be sunk.’

And the barman said,
‘I’m seeing red
‘Cause I’ve just been told
my tiger’s dead.
And my freehold over the ocean’s
gone to seed.’

There are angels under the arches
and every one of them wants to fuck.
And the legless man as he lurches
in the dark
tries his luck.

And the angel says,
‘You can marry me.’
And the legless man
says, ‘Set me free.’

You say remember when
back in old Phnom Penh
but that was now
and this is then
and your freedom’s floating skyward
on the breeze.