In Dubrovnik, in a building, on an antique floor
With the cutting edge of glass against the skin at the throat
From the basement to the attic, running back and forth
In the middle of a room through the ice and the storm

We took the dope that we had, packed up as much as we could, threw a rock through the solitary window in the room
Took the clothes on our bodies down to the open bag of trash, laying to rest every goddamn good thing we had ever had

From the door, to the stairway, to the street, through a gathering storm;
Never getting warm

In Dubrovnik, at a pawn shop, an exchange for more
In the mail at the building an arraignment for court
From the shelter to the elements, running back and forth
From the shelter to the elements, right back to the store

We took the cash that we had, packed up as much as we could, took the trash with the clothes to the backpacks and the goods
Stuck a plug in the basin, possessions intact, started the faucet, the sink overflowing the edge

From the door, to the stairway, to the street, through a gathering storm;
Never getting warm