i miss the times that i would see you doing lines inside my kitchen boredom was a cheat that often times we could defeat and wait until the sun goes down to go wreak havoc on the town and the ornaments left on their lawns by morning time were broke or gone and there s something in the air of these faded houses that we share to fill with all our friends to chant and hold and sing and drink and dance and there s something in these red light rooms that once held buckets mops and brooms that now we make our slogans in and clasp them on with safety pins and there s something in these nights that leave us so filled up with spite at knowing we will sleep again and these endeavors soon will end and less frequently come about exuberance replaced by doubt and then at some point will be gone but lacking the time to ponder on