wading through the shit to get to some good stuff is tiresome:

dust flies in my face
much to my disgrace
just a rat in the race
and i say goodbye
with a tear in my eye
--
you look old
lips thin and cold
your gray eyes have died
but your hair was still on fire

you look tired
face weary yet wired

but then again i've changed too
i don't have quite as much hair as i used to
the lines are deeper in my face
and i've long since stopped sleeping at your place