Instead
Something weighs heavily on me
Life is so long
I feel short of breath
There is a movie at a late show
I'll walk to it slowly
Maybe I can stop and catch my fleeing heart
Lay down and rest
Watch the old movie inside me instead

Voice
These hands of plunder
They take from me in life and death
My soul, my soul that yearned for so much
The wealth was in my dreams, my hope like a shiny jewel
These hands of plunder robbed me of this
Greedy, the Hands robs from you and me
Hold tight! But in death you are no more
Yet a voice eerily echoes in delight in this our lasting soul

Sane
I saw a man wasting away on a cold autumn day
The drugs in his veins were highways to what was sane
Early snow flakes fell into a thin linen on an old street bed
They covered him
I walked and thought hopeless:
There were no drugs in these helpless veins,
But as all men, I had highways to what was sane

Return
A man was dressed in black. His overcoat weighed heavily along his shoulders. His fedora, the crown pinched tight, was pulled low against his brow. He slipped into darkness. Alone, he felt a cold wind and was certain what he wore hid him from the night.

There was another man. He too was dressed in black and slipped into darkness, alone against the night. With their fedoras pulled low they walked in near blindness and bumped into each other.

"Are...aren't you Square Corner? one man asked.

Both men walked quickly away. No words were to have been said. The rule had been broken. The game was over. One man felt free, the other sad. The overcoat that weighed heavily on his shoulders was no good, the loser thought.