Cold Press Rail - Chris Bathgate

I quit my shoes for a big boat baby

Now I have my hands on a cold press rail

I cut my shape out of plastic and nylon

Now I have a cage made of rosewood and steel

I have a knife for a cuff that can capture

And I have a cuff for a collar that hails

I have my states you have words you attain

So I drank my thimble and ordered a pail

I let my feet fall from four forty stories

Onto a platform of solder and steam

I have a brow that was born to betray me

And I may be gone but not quite to bury

I have my states you have words to attain

More than the crumbs I bled for this evening

I saw true life just lie dead before me

And I called it god and know I’m its son