Cold Press Rail

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