Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

*I took a cue from you yesterday and cased a butcher's shop. The owner paid me ten bucks and a gallon of fresh blood for hanging up sides of beef. No questions asked, and come back on Monday for the next shipment. A gallon'll do me over he weekend, as cold as it is. If I don't throw it all back up again. Drink slow, and no cigarettes.*

Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.

*Do you ever wish it got cold in Los Angeles? I never told you, or Dru, but I hate warm weather. I liked London's dreary precipitation and winters. There's something dangerously cheerful about constant pleasantness. Brazil nearly killed me; at least I got to leave when Dru kicked me out. Of course I just went back to Sunnyhell, which isn't much better. Figures that the mouth of hell would be somewhere so fucking unpleasant.*

If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.

*Do you feel guilty for making me? For changing a whiny, foppish idiot into a whiny foppish vampire? Is that why you can't look at me? You're guilty, ashamed of your childe? Did I disappoint you?*

Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.

*You'd be happy to note that I've given up drinking and smoking. Becoming every bit the responsible adult, hmm? I say 'please' and 'thank you' and hold the door open for others. Finally got some more clothes--today in fact, with some of my cash. The rest filled up the car. I didn't get black, you know. Thrift store emperor, that's me. Dark corduroys and a jumper even you'd wear. I feel like a poncy bugger, but at least I don't smell like cheap motels anymore.*

But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.

*I don't think I'm gonna stay here very long, maybe another week or so. Enough time to store up some blood in the trunk and take off. Head north a bit and maybe west a little. Canada's supposed to be a nice enough place. At least, the eastern part.*

I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

*I'd take pictures for you; I know you like to see new places, or at least you did. Can't tell me the soul killed that off; I've seen it in your eyes, that wanderlust. Must've gotten a bit of that with your blood, 'cause I sure didn't have it as a human.*

Oh like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

*Maybe I'll get one of those postcards, with a montage of Toronto on it. I doubt you get many of those.*