I’ve been incommunicado for going on three days
And the silence stings staccato around my ears and face
And my hands are cold and shaking
From my latest fall from grace
And I’m ashamed to have to tell you
What I’ve managed to misplace
I could have been in California for coming up now on nine years
But I wouldn’t be here pining for you- I never would have made my way out here
Where Dahmer sings the blues with Liberace as they sip on fifty cent beers
And watch themselves on a tube Hitachi holding hands in a bathroom mirror
When you coming home when you coming home when you coming home?