The Novelist

I am New York
Tired and weak
I tried to write a book each time I speak
Mother and me
Sister and I
Sunday afternoons still bleed me dry

Listen to Dylan
Shut the door
Nobody cares anymore
Trying so hard
To craft a rhyme
With nickels and dimes

I am New York
Ten stories tall
Pull me from my pen before I fall

Listen to Dylan
Shut the door
Nobody cares anymore
Trying so hard
To craft a rhyme
With nickels and dimes

Maybe mother, she was right:
"love is a waste
It's a pill everyone tastes
In your mouth"

I am New York
Tired and weak
Tried to write a book each time I speak