Fifteen

You ask what's new, never one to help the poor, i arrive on cue, you never did say please, divined by any call, or my sense of ease, always back of your queue, sitting in this gloom, I'll bust the curfew, bad guys on this street, no fool for your cause, when you hear the screams, it pulls your life askew, hacking out your chores, sweating with the Blues, i know where you've been, with all your glorious mores, whose turn now to bleed, you never were my glue, drinking at some lonely door, your head full of tunes, tilting at the bar.