The Protagonist Moves On

Bloodshot and belligerent on a sidewalk towards home
fading like a beach house tattoo
against my better judgement I look me in the eye
and I give myself a good talking to

The patrons and pedestrians and the young pioneers
decline my request to confide
the steely indifference is honed to a point
and thrust into the messenger's side

Pull the shade from the ground
leave the howl for the hounds
Take the scar from the wound
and the evidence is gone
the protagonist moves on

Swallowing down curses and coughing up steam
an illness in search of a cure
a sense of abandon left me long ago
it's the one thing of which I am sure

And I'm drifting between snow banks in this numb, hollow frame
like driving my parent's old car
there's a wasp on the dashboard, the window handle's gone
and it's only going to get you so far

Pull the shade from the ground
leave the howl for the hounds
Take the scar from the wound
and the evidence is gone
the protagonist moves on

Wilting in the starlight on a cold Boxing Day
lunging toward a London hotel
I catch me with a southpaw and finish with my right
and I'm woken by the clock tower bell

And the taxis and the toxins and the tender of the Queen
spill into the narrows and straights
against my inclination to slumber in the Thames
I wander through the embassy gate

Pull the shade from the ground
leave the howl for the hounds
Take the scar from the wound
and the evidence is gone
the protagonist moves on

Bloodshot and belligerent on a sidewalk towards home
fading like a beach house tattoo