I heard his story, intoxicated walk home
While a party raged on behind him
He had left her there, his friend of sweet sixteen
They were no longer more than this and her life turned
To other things
Drugs, and older men '
The morning after
Knock on his bedroom door ' a mother seeking truth
He didn't know, couldn't remember
She can't be found'
Another page in the news lines '
Nothing more than another shattered life
Rolled away in a rug
Carried to a dumping place as her grave
He lives with this; he lives with this
Burned into flesh ' a prick of needles
Makes this guilt temporarily go away
He is the painted man -
He can't be found'
Another page in small town history '
A man now obsessed with pain,
Working needles against his wrapping
And the glory of knowing nothing more than this
The inner dial to music of this world
That he reaches out to meet is with thimble fingers