And I Hear Him Every Night

On every street
The scales that do slither
Deliver me from....

I hear him every night. Him being my mysterious neighbor with the can't-be-good-cough.

He’s got fasting black lungs
Made of clove splintered shards
They’re the kind that will talk
Through a wheezing of coughs

I rarely, if ever, see this guy. Actually, I can't recall his face and I've been living here since the summer.

And I hear him every night
In every pore
And every time he just makes me

He's a quiet guy, and other than knowing where he lives, and that he has a helluva cough, I don't know much about him.

Freeze without an answer
Free from all the shame
Must I hide
'Cause I’ll never never sleep alone

I barely hear him at all except some weird scurrying up and down his stairs, and during the occasional late night when I hear him hacking up a lung.

Look at how they flock to him
From an isle of open sores
He knows that the taste is such
Is such to die for

I imagine him to be a recovering smoker.

And I hear him every night
On every street
The scales that do slither
Deliver me from....

I feel as if one night I may have to call an ambulance or something; he gets so bad sometimes.

Oh lord
Said I’m, Said I’m, Said I’m
Said I’m bloodshot for sure

And then the hacking turns to silence.

Pale runs the ghost
Til I'm merely
Swollen on the shore
everynight
in every pore
The scales that do slither
Deliver me from…

I hope he gets better...

Freeze without an answer
Free from all the shame
Let me die
'Cause I’ll never never sleep alone