One More Tonight, I Swear

Bukowski would’ve fucked his way out of it 

and told Fante to stay the f**k alive 

Hemingway was different 

he made a masterpiece out of his body

but what about Van Gogh 

cutting off his own ear 

Jason Molina with so much soul

one of the greatest unknown musicians 

to ever spill out of America 

drinks himself to death at thirty-nine 

Kerouac was a laugh 

had me by the throat once 

and that’s when I knew

“the only people for me are the mad ones” 

it’s night like these we need to look up at the stars 

and ask “where the f**k did we go wrong?” 

I doubt Darwin would approve

heck, the walls of Westminster are crumbling around his grave 

just ask Big Ben 

it’s cold in this house 

I think it’s time for another cigarette.