Down Here At the Pawnshop

There's not much left of me willing to say

I'm ready to give this heart away

There's little willing able and warm

that wasn't washed to sea by storm

There's not a helluva lot to say

That I haven't already condemned the same

Not much skin left on my back

Seems all I'm made of anymore is cracks

In shell and mind both alike

If only I hadn't given up the spike

I could have words left to describe

Worlds left to relate and decry

If only I'd kept a few pieces of me

For rainy days and boys too sweet

For loves that could keep

And not expire in the heat

I feel there's not much left of me

That hasn't rotted away with the meat

Of my shame and bones of my feet

As I've been endlessly wandering these country streets.