a song, thinking maybe a rap

[I’ve been layin low like a lion]

Crouched on the doormat at four in the morning
Found by a postman, unfolding and yawning
With high hopes there is a high chance of failure
I’m not drunk or on drugs it’s my normal behaviour
Pat pocket, wet crotch and I did have the keys
Shouldn’t sleep outside in the time of naked trees
No one has called and so no one should
Come identify the body that nobody would!
The story by now has so many variants
If I need to talk, I’ll call the nosy Samaritans

You may lay low but your story is old
Don’t bare your teeth now, it’s not a personal slight
Turns out two people weren’t quite right
In the head

Now I’m just chewing paper and flicking it at the ceiling
It’s only really bad when you can’t feel your own feelings
I may sleep too much and smoke too much dope
Believe it or not I’m in recovery mode
For my mate I don’t wish bad I don’t wish good either
We are both just sweating out what was a bad fever
Remember the fly who churned butter, the little shit who swam
The way I see it every chance is a fighting one
Which may have been the issue, that and the dishes
The cat has not forgiven me still, when I come close he hisses
But now I’d rather let the magic dust to settle
No plans for my days that reach beyond the kettle
Keep it quiet, keep it gentle, keep the penny from dropping
Then slink down to the corner for some late night shopping
As office blocks block the only natural light
Take your time to be the unsavoury type

You may lay low but your story is old
Don’t bare your teeth now, it’s not a personal slight
Turns out two people weren’t quite right
In the head

Now that you’ve let go of voluntary captivity
Lost all like scattered marbles but for zero accountability
Think about moving away, goodbye to all that
You forget how in the city the streets always smell so bad
Weigh up the options, then do yourself a good turn
You can recycle the letters if it’s too much effort to burn
Hide under blankets like a burrowing animal
In this dump the dress code is always rough casual
Take your time and listen to all the albums again
Then pull yourself, half digested, out of the other end

You may lay low but your story is old
Don’t bare your teeth now, it’s not a personal slight
Turns out two people weren’t quite right
In the head

Take me home