The Novelist - Richard Swift

I am New York

Tired and weak

I tried to write a book each time I speak

Mother and me

Sister and I

Sunday afternoons still bleed me dry

Listen to Dylan

Shut the door

Nobody cares anymore

Trying so hard

To craft a rhyme

With nickels and dimes

I am New York

Ten stories tall

Pull me from my pen before I fall

Listen to Dylan

Shut the door

Nobody cares anymore

Trying so hard

To craft a rhyme

With nickels and dimes

Maybe mother, she was right:

«love is a waste

It’s a pill everyone tastes

In your mouth»

I am New York

Tired and weak

Tried to write a book each time I speak