The scattered debris
Of our possessions
Means they're taking
Up more room than they deserve
And the riff raff
In the back alleys
Are headed toward main street
When you return
From your journey
Of self-recrimination
Maybe you'll have time
To rail against others
So many are running always
From the fountains
Of their being
Giving up the personal
Waters of life
They've found aridity -
A lifeless sort of life
