Plainclothes from Plainclothes by J. Trafford

In my moment of weakness
I suckled at the status quo
hiccuped at the lenience
no reticence to the flow
weaning allegiance in the hand that feeds us

Fish in a barrel
flowers in a vase
in a couple of years I'll be just
an empty parking space.
I'll season the wound, brick up the bookcase.

Don't I pay for these roads?
Why is my heart in my throat?
Aren't I being good?
Civil saving grace, show me how to behave
like I really should.

Lambs landed in pasture
only by circumstance
never moved faster than when the TV
showed us how to dance.
New meat's coming in where skin's never been.

The cure for what ails ya's
always démodé. The hair
of the dog - one of two bad sommeliers.
What more do we need? What more can we take?

Don't I pay for these roads?
Why is my heart in my throat?
Aren't I being good?
Knee-deep in the wool, anyone
can be in control - it's fools' gold.

• Pop
• Pittsburgh