Heavy boots fall hard onto the outskirts.
Stomping in
Stomping out
Storming off
Back and forth towards the outlaws and exiles,
Hiding away in the back corner with the rats and the mold,
Lights come on
Lights come off
Bulbs burn out.
In a drab and populous shelter,
A sweet sickness sweeps the room.
Breathe it in
Breathe it off
Be forgot
Rest up brother; almost time to sweat it out.